


Skyrim Torment

by RedwoodSorrow



Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Planescape (Roleplaying Game), Planescape: Torment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-01-16 03:45:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 133,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18513235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedwoodSorrow/pseuds/RedwoodSorrow
Summary: The Dragonborn comes! Follow the adventures of this heavily scarred and forgetful hero and his friend the charming, annoying talking skull as they fight to save Skyrim from unspeakable evil. Or at least they would if the dear leader could remember a single thing!





	1. Chapter 1

**Skyrim and all its characters are owned by Bethesda, and Planescape Torment Enhanced Edition and all its characters are owned by Beamdog.**

**This and all my other stories can also be found on Fanfiction.Net**

You slowly open your eyelids. The last thing you remember is you tried to cross the border and now… a skull in a cage.

"Hey chief, you okay? You playing corpse or you putting the blinds on the Imps? Heh, I thought you were a deader for sure?"

"Wh.. who are you," you stammer out.

"Don't see the point in saying that here chief. The way I see it, no point in making acquaintances on death's door."

"Death's door? What the hell are you talking about?"

I'm talking about you. Me, I've already kicked the bucket. But you? Seems you've still got some life left in you. Though I can't imagine how, given all those scars you've got. They really did a number on you, huh chief?"

Unable to deal with the shock of a talking skull chatting like it was a regular everyday thing, you stand up to move, only to find your hands bound. Looking around, you suddenly recognize you're on one of what appear to be several carts carting through a forest. Turning away from the anomaly of the chatting head, you find two other "passengers." One a man in rags looking at you and the skull with understandable confusion. The other is dressed in an impressive fur coat with a gag over his mouth. You get a sense of déjà vu staring at him.

"Damn you stormcloaks," the man in rags says to the skull. "Skyrim was fine until you came along. The Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell."

The man looks at you, grimacing at your admittedly grotesque body but making an attempt to plead nonetheless. "You there. You and me – we shouldn't be here. It's these stormcloaks the Empire wants."

"Stormcloak?" The skull looks incredulously at the thief (at least you think it's incredulous. It's understandably difficult with no facial expression except the eyelids) and then bursts out laughing. "Do I look like a Stormcloak to you berk?"

"Well, uh-"

"Because I can totally see myself out there swinging a big fancy sword with my arms. Which I don't have!"

"But they found you with these traitors."

"That don't make me a Stormcloak berk! I got no more allegiances in this world than you! Hey chief. Chief!" The skull stares at you. "Do I look like a big macho Stormcloak to you? Do I?"

Even with the countless odd scenarios you've experienced in your life, you must admit this is a new one. Being asked point blank by a talking skull if he looks anything like muscular boasting men. Looking at the thief, you can see he's befuddled by this too.

"Uh.."

"Shut up back there," the cart driver says.

"See?" Morte grins (aka looks) at the thief. "Not a Stormcloak."

"Then why were you with them?"

"I was a prisoner. Well I suppose I still am. Except I was a prisoner to them. Being delivered to that guy." He nods at the man with the gag over his mouth.

"Wait," the thief mutters his eyes widening in realization and shock. "You… you're him! Ulfric Stormcloak himself!"

"Yep. Old stormy reckoned he'd bagged a big catch. Enough to come out of hiding. Got bagged himself," the skull snickered.

"The leader of the Rebellion. But if they've captured you. Oh god! Where are they taking us?"

"Where do you think?" The head bobs, which you take to be as a shrug. "Probably off to Sovngarde or wherever they go when they die. You though," looking at the thief, "doubt you'll be so lucky."

"How can you be so calm about this!? They'll behead us!"

The skull gives another look of are you kidding me? "What're they gonna behead? If they can find my neck they're welcome to it. But I can't find it anywhere. On account of being dead and all. You should try it." He grins at you. "You're at least halfway there."

You give him the dead eye then turn to see you've arrived at a village.

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!"

"Good let's get this over with." On a bridge, you're about to pass under, you see an elderly well-cropped man in armor glaring down at the prisoners. He looks at your cart frowning at the sight of Ulfric Stormcloak then noticing you and giving an expression of immense shock. It would have been funny if you weren't at death's door.

The thief meanwhile started barking out some names of people or deities you didn't recognize. You notice besides the general are a group of green-skinned people with pointy ears.

"Oh joy, the Thalmor. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."

The skull turns away from the Thalmor and looks about wistfully.

"Ah Helgen. You know when I was alive I was quite a hit with the ladies. Wonder if Vilad is still making that mead with the Juniper berries. Oh Vilad. When you die, please come back with skin."

While the skull presumably drools (or tries to. No water when you're dead) you notice a boy questioning his parents about the prisoners. Well, specifically about you.

"Who's that daddy," he points at you. "Who's that man with the scars."

His father shoos him inside looking at your body in horror and disgust. You frown. Let him have the kind of life you've had and not get this beat up!

Next thing you know the carts have stopped. The thief looks about in fear.

"What's happening? Why have we stopped?"

"Why do you think," the skull grins. "End of the line."

You notice in the other cart the prisoners marching out. You sigh. "Might as well go. Don't want to keep the gods waiting for us."

The skull smiles (presumably, it's hard to tell. You just assume that he's making that expression and that's that). "That's the spirit chief. Go out with a smile. Besides I think you'll agree. Skin and you don't agree. Come on now, the headsman's waiting."

A soldier picks up the cage containing the skull. You and your fellow passengers step out. Ulfric in silence, the thief begging.

"No wait! We're not rebels!"

"Relax thief. It ain't so bad," the skull calls out from his cage. "A quick swipe and then no more need to steal horses. "Great, right?"

"No! This can't be happening! I'm not a Stormcloak. I'm not!"

At this the thief takes off like a bucking bronco. It's actually somewhat humerous you think to yourself until he gets shot in the back with an arrow.

"Wah wah wah." The skull chants.

"Anyone else?" Calls out a woman in armor.

"Hail stranger." A quiet and somber voice calls to you. An elf in a loose-fitting orange tunic distinctive from the imperial armor that adorns the rest of the soldiers stares at you. In his hands, he holds a list of names supposedly for the prisoners.

"Come forward," he beckons. "Who are you?"

You stare at him intensely. For some reason, he looks very familiar. You've seen Thalmor before. Or at least you think so. You suddenly notice at his side…

"Who are you," he repeats.

You bite your lip, hesitant to be forthcoming with your real name. Especially because you don't know it. You decide to do the right thing. Lie

"Uh…Adahn. MY name is Adahn."

"Adahn?" The skull snorts. "And here I thought you were someone special."

"That name is not known to me," the Thalmor murmers. "Are you from Hammerfell?"

"Yes." That at least is not a lie. You think. After all, who else but a redguard could sport your dark skin and such killer dreads?

"This one is not on the list," the Thalmor turns to the guard next to him. "What must be done? I do not know."

"Enough with your knowing and list nonsense. He gets the block," the woman snaps.

"Understood." The Thalmor turns back to you. "My apologies. Know that your ashes shall be sent home to Hammerfell."

Turning away from the odd elf, you witness general Tullius angrily spitting in Ulfric Stromcloak's face. The skull appears to frown from his cage. Although to be fair, you can't really tell since skulls have poor facial expressions.

"New taunts! All right!"

You have no idea what to make of that statement. You hear a priestess of Arkay making some praise to her diety. You barely hear it. Priesthood never really appealed to you. For some reason, the gods never liked you it seems.

"Boo!" The skull shouts. "No talking!"

The priestess looks annoyed. "As you wish."

A stormcloak soldier makes his way to the block by which stands an executioner with a big honking axe. The soldier kneels his head down on the block and sneers up at the executioner.

"My ancestors are smiling at me Imperials. Can you say the same?"

With that his head comes off into the basket in front of him.

"You imperial bastards," yells a stormcloak soldier.

"He knew himself," the Thalmor in orange mutters to himself. "It was his will that he die the way he did."

"Shut up Dak'kon!" The captain barks at him. "Next, the hammerguard with the scars."

The skull looks at you. "Nice knowing you, scar face. If you ever come back as a skull, look me up."

You walk up to the block, trying to act brave but inwardly afraid. You place your neck down on the block and look up to see the executioner raising his axe… and an abish- dragon overhead.

The monster roars, or shouts you can't really tell and everyone falls to their feet in shock.

"Dragon," yells the captain. "What the hell is that doing here!?"

"That is not known to me."

"Be quiet Dak'kon!"

"I got no idea what that's about." You turn your head up to see the skull floating above you and looking down. "But I'd say that a fair bit of good luck. Come on berk, unless you wanna end up like that thief."

Dazed and confused from everything happening around you; the near execution, the dragon, and a floating talking skull, you follow him into a nearby tower and shut the door behind you.

"Here mate. Let me see about those bond-. Oh great not you again!"

You turn to see Ulfric Stromcloak and two of his soldiers have taken shelter here too.

"This doesn't change anything skull. You're still coming with us."

"The hell I am! I'm not getting my hands dirty in your little rebellion. Whatever you want from me, do it yourself!"

You're about to point out that the skull has no hands when you hear the dragon roar outside.

"We need to move now," yells Ulfric.

"He's right. Come on scarface, before that lizard brings this whole place down around our heads!"

You rush away up the stairs, just as the wall collapses and the dragon peeks its big black head in and unleashes an inferno within the tower.

You pull back, a hell of a lot luckier than the stormcloak soldier in front of you. The great black beast pulls his or her (hir?) head out and flies off. You stare out through the hole. You can see another building with the roof partially destroyed.

You take a leap out and land in the other building. Then all of a sudden you remember (a rarity for you) the skull. You look back where you just leaped from to see him caught in the grip of Ulfric himself.

"Let me go, king killer!"

"King killer? Really? Is that the best insult you can come up with?"

You contemplate whether to help the skull, then you remember. You just met him! And he was gloating over your imminent death! You think to yourself, fuck it and proceed down the stairs and out of the burning building…. Only to run once again into the dragon.

"Come boy!" The Thalmor Dak'kon pulls the child who had earlier been gawking at your execution behind a wall as the lizard unleashes another breath of fire nearly scorching you.

"You live," the Thalmor states calmly as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "I know the way to safety. If you possess the will to live then follow."

You have to say, following someone who just a minute ago condemned you to the block doesn't sound like the smartest idea. But hell, it's that or roasting alive. You run behind him and squeeze between a wall and another tower.

"Wait," he says quietly and presses himself against the wall. You follow suit as the dragon above looks around and flies off again.

"I know my eyes tell me that is a dragon, a legend of old. Yet I do not know how such a thing is possible. I do know this. This creature knows why he is here. He knows what he seeks is here, and he knows much of pain."

At this point you really can't keep quiet anymore.

"What is it with you and knowing?"

"In knowing, one becomes strong."

"That doesn't mean you have to keep saying it!"

"Know that I have no time to argue. Know this, that the exit is close and if you would know the way then stick close."

"You didn't have to say it s- oh forget it," you sigh in defeat as he's already taken off. You can't help but notice the sword he's holding shimmers strangely. Before you can get a better look though, you follow him past the general and captain from before ordering the attack, to little avail you notice.

"Dak'kon! About time," the General exclaims. "It's not going well. This thing is massacring us!"

"Know that we do not have the strength to defeat this creature. We must abandon this village and report to the Thalmor."

I suppose you're right. We need to retreat while we can. And to think we had Ulfric in our grasp!"

"There will be another day for that. It is not our time for death. Talos commands we live in service to him."

The general looks agast. "Talos?"

Dak'kon pales. "The Thalmor. Know that utterance was a mistake I shall not make again."

"Let's hope not. Make for the tunnels. We'll follow as soon as we can. We'll lose troops but you are an asset we cannot lose."

"What about him," the captain glares at you.

"He is not known to me," Dak'kon stares at her. "But I do not believe he is allied with the stormcloaks, and we have more pressing concerns."

The captain frowns at him then looks back at you. "Fine just get going."

You do more than "get going." You haul ass! You make it to the entrance to the tunnel when you hear…

"Hey wait up scarface!" You turn around to see the skull bobbing after you a finger in his mouth.

"You," Dak'kon grips his sword handle. "Where is Ulfric?"

The skull spits the finger out onto the ground. "Gone. Ran with his tail between his legs. Thought himself a real man, tangling with a poor defenseless skull," he cackles.

The dragon rears overhead again. The skull quits laughing and looks at you.

"Well it's been fun, but I'm not hanging around here for that dragon or any of you sorry lot to drag me off to whatever god's realm you believe in. Come on berk, let's blow this joint."

You're confused for a second. "You talking to me?"

"No I'm talking to Mr. Jolly over there. Of course, I'm talking to you! I need someone to watch my back through these tunnels, and since you're obviously not with any of these lunatics, that makes us the perfect match. So come on you with me?"

Dak'kon steps forward. "Know that the skull is treacherous. He serves only himself. Stick with me and you will know purpose."

"Oh please! He just tried to have your head! Come on, Adahn was it? Us outcasts gotta stick together!"

"Know that your crimes can be forgiven."

"Enough with the knows!" You suddenly shout. "Look I know, you're a badass noble elf warrior, and he's a frigging skull. But know there's no way I'm going with someone who sentenced me. And know that if I had to put up with your incessant knowing, I'd probably do the same to you! So know that I am sorry, but know that I'm outta here!"

He stares at you hard as the chaos reigns around you. He sighs and looks at the skull. "Know that I do not have time to capture you, but it is the will of the empire that your knowledge be known to us and it shall be known. And you," referring to you obviously. "Know that I bear you no ill will, but if our paths cross again, I will be forced to uphold justice."

"Justice," spits the skull. "What are you, a companion?" Come on chief! Let's leave these numbskulls to burn."

And with that, he begins, bobbling (floating?) towards the nearest wooden door while Dak'kon makes for the further one. The skull turns back at you pleadingly.

"Uh yeah, in case it wasn't obvious. Another reason I need you. No hands."

You stare at him. A floating talking skull asking for your help with a simple wooden door while a dragon lights the town on fire. And in the center of it all, you a heavily scarred man with poor memory problems. And you thought your life was strange before.

Turning back for one look at the burning wreckage of what you thought would be your final resting spot, you accept that there really is no alternative, sigh, and open the door. Whee.

…

On the other side, you take a moment to catch your breath. Outside you can still hear the screams of death.

"Take a moment and catch your breath."

You look up in annoyance. "I already was."

"Well I'm sorry mate. I'd probably notice except I don't breathe myself. Haven't for years since I gave up the ghost, aka became this."

"And how did that happen exactly?" You ask genuinely curious.

"No time for that berk. We've gotta get out of here before someone or something finds us."

"Too late for that." You turn to find the female captain who ordered you dead with a fellow Imperial soldier behind her.

The skull piqued up not in fear but in excitement. "Hey chit. I knew you couldn't keep your hands off me, could you? Saw you eyeing me the whole time while you had your back on this chap."

She growls at him. "Not today skull. Ulfric Stormcloak may have escaped, but we're not letting the same for you. We need to get something out of this whole ordeal."

"Hey chit come on now," the skull seemingly pleaded. "You know this isn't about that. You wanted to see if it's true, didn't you? If skulls really do make better lovers?"

Everyone gapes at him, unable to make sense of everything wrong with that statement. After what seems like several minutes she finally snaps herself out of it and turns to you.

"I can't believe you chose this little cretin over Dak'kon. Still I don't have any qualms with you. Let us have him and we'll let you go."

"Come on Adam."

"Adahn."

"Right Adahn sorry. Come on Adahn. She's a stingy Imperial. She and the Stromcloaks. They're really the same. Fighting for power and control. She won't even apologize for what she did. We gotta stick together us outcasts. You need me."

"Please. You're good for one thing only, and he definitely does not need you for that." She turns back to you. "So what's it going to be?"

You think hard. Do you really need the skull? You want to get as far away from here as possible and if everyone's after him, you'll have a big target on your back.

"Fus doo rah!"

Suddenly out of nowhere the skull lets loose a shout that knocks the two soldiers off their feet. You stare at him in shock.

"Screw it," the captain climbs back to her feet. "Kill them both!"

She comes lunging at you when the skull suddenly charges (floats rapidly) and sinks his teeth into her throat. She screams in anger and surprise. The other soldier stares dumbfoundly then rushes forward. Thinking quickly, you lift your foot up and trip the poor bastard sending him sprawling over and… impaling himself on his own sword.

"Sad," the skull says licking his lips from all the blood. "What a waste of a perfectly good tunic.

You look at the captain with her throat torn open then back at the grinning, floating, talking, and now bloody skull.

"Care to explain what the hell that was?"

"It's a shout. The thing that started this whole civil war mess. And I'll tell you the rest as soon as we're far away from here. Now let me see those wrists."

He snaps your binds in half with his teeth then looks at the fallen captain.

"Reckon you'd better take her armor. Not like she'll be needing it anymore. And you'd best take her weapons as well. Cover up your scars."

Consigning yourself to this current path you begin to strip the captain of all her stuff and putting it on yourself. The skull looks around then turns back raising an eyebrow.

"Well aren't you a regular smashing joe. Looking spiffy. Seems you were born for that stuff. Can't hide your zombie face but it beats a loincloth, eh?"

You swing the sword around. It's been a while since you've welded a weapon this big but you think you can manage.

"All right if we're going to travel together, let's get some things straight. First of all, is your name really Adahn?"

"Well… no. I don't know my real name for certain actually. I go by several."

"Fine then how about chief? Chief right? What I called you at first? Easy to remember. Second if you've got questions, feel free to ask me. I've been around Skyrim for some time now, and I can tell you're kind of new to these parts from your scent."

You frown and sniff yourself. What scent. The scent of sweat.

"All right now finally. I can fight as you can see, but I'm no heavy hitter and I'm hesitant to use that shout in here less it collapse a ceiling. Hence, I'm gonna need you to be the main offence. Think you can handle that?"

You look at your sword and shield then back at him. "I've got arms, I should be fine."

"Oh ha ha. Very funny. I'm laughing so hard my spleen might split if of course I had a spleen. Now let's go. Oh one other thing. The name's Morte."

Your eyebrow raises. "Morte?"

"Yeah Morte. It's Latin for death."

Your eyebrow raises even higher. "What's Latin?"

"No time for questions. This is a time for fleeing with our skirts hiked up! Let's go Chief or more smoking babes will suffer the same fate as this poor captain."

You pause to let that sink in. Then you sigh and follow the grinning, floating, talking, bloody, and apparently perverted skull.

You wander through the passages, mostly silent and keeping an ear out for any hostility. You do encounter some from Imperials. They fight hard but not enough to match the Zombie skull duo that is you and Morte! A short time later you find your way into what appears to be a pantry filled with apples cheese and rabbit hanging from the ceiling.

"Ah, now that's the spot. Quick grab whatever you can. We might not get another chance like this for some time."

"Uh, yeah," you say watching as Morte chomps one of the rabbits hanging from the ceiling, skin and all.

"Pardon, Morte?"

"Mfph? Que quer Chief?"

"How do you eat without a stomach? I mean where does that all go?"

"Eh, beats me. Then again I'm not totally sure how I came back as a floating skull. Now quit bellyaching and grab some of this stuff. Get it? Bellyaching?"

While he snorts, you grab a pouch and stuff it with whatever you can. You then notice some potions on the table, figuring they could do wonders for your look and health, you scoop them in to.

"All right vamoose. Let's float befor-"

You suddenly hear shouts from the passage beyond.

"Sounds like more of our "friends." Let's take it nice and slo- wait chief!"

You don't wait and instead stupidly and blindly go charging in with reckless abandon and find a stormcloak soldier engaged with two soldiers. Without thinking you stab one through the back. Just as the other turns to face you, the stormcloak cleaves his head off.

"Mfph!" You see Morte floating in with the food bag in his mouth. "Careful what you drop! You know how hard it is to carry something with your mouth?"

"The skull!" The woman whips out her sword. "Where is Jarl Ulfric?"

"No idea, love. No idea at all. It's just you and me, down here alone, with no one else around. So, whatcha doing after this?"

"What am I doing? I'm hauling your ass off to Windhelm as soon as we give that dragon the slip!"

"Ha! Fat chance! No way is my friend here letting you make off with me!"

"Ok. Let's go."

"What? Chief!"

"We could use the extra help. Once we're out we can discuss ownership. Until then let's work together."

"Fine. But know this tuts. You're boss ain't getting his hands on me. Now if you wanted to get your hands on me, that'd be a different story."

She just looks at you as if to say "is he for real?" You just shrug apologetically and notice a book title the "Book of the Dragonborn." You don't know why but you get the strongest urgency to read it so you pocket it for now and follow the two out.

You walk in silence for a bit. You at least. Morte can't quit trying to chat up the your new female companion who can't hesitate barking back at him. You meanwhile keep your ears open to the sound of the battle overhead and the roar of the dragon.

You eventually leave the building and make your way into a moist cavern with an underground river running through. Over the water and your companions arguing, you suddenly hear the dragon's roar much closer and the ceiling start to shake.

"Morte, get over here now!"

Morte looks up then at you. He won't make it in time, but the woman next to him with a determined look in her eyes grabs him and throws him with all her might at you.

He looks back in shock at the woman who only a moment ago despised him.

"Make sure he gets to Jarl Ulfric safely," she says as the ceiling falls down on her.

You both stare at each other for a moment until you finally let him go.

"So, to Ulfric then?"

He looks at you annoyed. "Don't get any ideas. I barely knew her, and Ulfric's no saint. Let's keep moving."

You march on in silence. This time with no chatter or sound of the dragon roaring overhead. Before long you see light. Eager to see the light again, you run, and Morte bobbles very fast to freedom.

 


	2. Chapter 2: Riverwood

Outside you find yourself breathing in the air on a mountain slope witnessing the vast valley below. A calmness interrupted by a roar overhead. You look up to see the great black dragon flying away northwest.

"Looks like he's gone for good." Morte comes out of the shadows. "Maybe he found some hot dragon chicks!"

You roll your eyes, trying to stay on topic. "We need to clear out. I've got enough scars without either of those armies cutting me up."

"Got that right. I'm not sticking around for any of those lunatics to open my bone box. Come on, we're going to Riverwood. It's just down the hill and I know someone there. We can hide out for a bit."

"Fine let's get walking. Lead the way."

"Uh chief? No legs."

"I know. You should get them some time."

He snorts. "See? You can snark."

And so off you go. The dynamic duo. The outcasts. The newlyweds down the hill. You keep expecting to come across soldiers from the armies you just escaped, but are pretty lucky.

"So this lass Gerdur, she's a real stunner you know. Took me in while I was stuck out in the rain with a dislocated jaw. She was all modest and kind, but oh the way she was looking and touching. You could tell she was all up in this."

He looks back at you only to find your gaze focused on the mountain ruins.

"Oh come on! I'm talking about a smoking seductress, and you're into ruin gazing?"

"Hm? Oh yeah sounds lovely. So what's up there?"

"You need to get your priorities straight. That's Bleak falls Barrow. Some haunted ruins or whatnot."

"Haunted?"

"Yeah but don't take my word for it. I don't know much about it nor do I care to. I keep telling Gerdur to move out of its shadow, but no she's a stubborn one."

You press on along the creek, Morte continuing to babble about this woman you're about to meet whilst you straddle a fine line between listening and awareness of the surrounding territory. Eventually see a village up ahead with a lumber mill and a hotel.

"Looks like nobody knows yet," you comment.

Morte nods in response but looks around, lighting up when he sees a blonde woman with an apron working on the log saw.

"Gerdy!" He calls out, bobbling over while ignoring the astonished looks of townsfolk.

The woman in question looks up and sees him floating over. She in turn promptly walks over to him without a sound and smacks him so hard he falls to the ground.

He looks up at her disappointed. "I'm not sure I deserved that."

"You absolutely deserved that, you damned hound! Asking if you could get a ride with my girls!"

"Come on Gerdy. It was a compliment. They're very fine girls. They just need a man to-"

"Not another word!"

"Sounds like you did deserve that," you mutter. The woman, Gerdur you assume, looks at you finally and places her hand over her mouth.

"Mighty Talos! What happened to you? It's the skull isn't it? The leech, always living off the work of others until he's drunk his fill and then he leaves them to rot! Rotten bone box! Why I've half a mind to hand you over to the imperials right now and-"

"Already tried that. Didn't work out too well."

"What are you talking about? Spill it! Where have you been. And who is this cursed man?"

"In that order, Helgin, and he's a fellow prisoner originally destined for the block."

Seeing her mouth about to open in protest, you quickly move to intercept. "Hate to interrupt this touching reunion, but shouldn't we move this somewhere more private lest we cause panic and concern?"

She looks at you and the skull on the ground then shakes her head at the oddity of it all. And really, how can you blame her?

"Gerdy?"

"Oh all right. Hod! Over here! I need your help with something!"

A man working on the nearby logging mill looks over. "What is it woman? Sven dru- You!"

"Hi Hod. Gerdy still hanging around with you huh? I pity her"

The man walks over anger in his eyes and slaps Morte out of the air.

He rises back up shaking his head (aka himself) and stares at Hod.

"Not sure I deserved that either."

"You've got some nerve coming back skull. You and your," he pauses staring at you in shock, "bodyguard?"

"Yeah that's right big man! You'd better watch your mouth, or me and my new bodyguard will sock some sense into that mouth!"

"The hell, he'd do to you," Hod wondered aloud.

"Pff!" You stifle a laugh. "You think this little welp could do this to me?"

Morte stares at you angrily.

"I'm a prisoner from Helgen. I got caught by Imperials and wound up in the same carriage as him and Ulfric Stromcloak."

"Jarl Ulfric?"

"Over here. In private," his wife insists.

Ignoring everyone's stares, you head over to the river. Taking a seat on a stump finally after hours, you let out a sigh of relief. The couple meanwhile looks at you both expectantly waiting for this madness to make sense.

"Spill it. What's this about Helgen and Ulfric?"

Everyone continues to stare at you while you stare at Morte. After a bit, it becomes clear, you have no interest in being narrator.

Morte sighs. "Fine. Guess I'll narrate, you big lug."

"Well like the chief here said, we happened to be in the same carriage as the Stromcloaks. We were both at Darkwater Crossing and next thing I knew, Imperials are swarming us."

"Why would Jarl Ulfric be there at the same time as you?"

"No idea." Morte answered that a little too quickly you think. "I was just minding my own business and then I'm on a carriage to Helgen for my execution. Well, Ulfric's execution. We were along for the ride."

"Imperial swine. Wouldn't even give Jarl Ulfric a fair trial."

"Yeah I know. Poor guy." Morte brushes that aside. "But then. Just as this berk here is about to join me in the neckless club-" he pauses, his eyes widening.

"Yes? What?"

"Just pausing for dramatic effect. Anyway, his head's on the block. And then. Da da da dum! A dragon!"

Hod cackles while his wife's eyes widen. "The stories you come up with skull!"

"For once, he's not lying." Hod turns to you in shock.

"Hey! Whaddaya mean for once," barks Morte.

"You saw it? For real? A dragon?" Gerdur asks in shock.

"Yeah. Turns out all those stories told at the bars had some truth to them. And a good thing too. Without that dragon, I'd be rotting in some Thalmor dungeon. In all the chaos, we managed to fight our way out."

You snort. "I don't know about us. Pretty sure I did most of the fighting."

"I got that officer's throat! Well in any case, we made our way through some tunnels and here we are. Seems we got here ahead of the cavalry."

"It seems that way. No one's come up this road all day. Not eve- Oh Jarl Ulfric! Divine blessings, I hope he made it out."

"Don't you worry. Ulfric's too strong to for that. Why I'll bet he was on the front lines fighting that dragon with his bare hands!" Hod boasted.

"Oh I'm sure he wanted to Hod. But that might be difficult with only one and a half hands," Morte grinned.

"Enough with your cryptic nonsense skull. What do you mean?"

You decide now is the time to intervene, before things get any tenser. "Look, things are about to get crazy everywhere. I don't know what a dragon showing up means but I feel like we should do something."

Everyone stops and stares at you. Gerdur looks at her husband, then at the skull, then finally back at you.

"Yes of course, you're right. Skyrim must know." She pauses for a moment. The closest major town to here is Whiterun. It's the center of the continent. It must be warned."

She looks your body over then stares you in the face. "No disrespect, my friend. But it seems you know a thing or two about fighting and… pain."

She clears her throat awkwardly and continues talking. "The point is, it seems you can take care of yourself out there. Can you get a message to the Jarl of Whiterun? Tell them to fortify their defenses and prepare for the worst?"

You want to say no desperately. What little you remember of your old days doesn't paint you as a very altruistic kind of guy. Still you need an excuse to clear the area before the empire comes back. Plus as tough as you are, you doubt you can take on a dragon alone.

"Sure. What the hell. I'll give them a heads up."

"Great. And would you mind taking this pervert here with you," Gerdur gestured at Morte.

"Excuse m wha? But I thought we could spend the end times together, my dear!"

"She'll be spending it with me, you jackal! You can go off and die between someone else's legs!"

Morte sighs. "Alas, twas not meant to be my love. I suppose I am doomed for the open road and you are doomed to suffer and die in the shadow of this accursed mountain."

Gerdur places her hand over her face. "Enough Morte. It's over. You may spend the night to gather supplies for the road. But I want you gone first thing in the morning. Got it?"

"Fine. Come on chief. I'll show you the place."

You and Morte eat outside. Understandable as Gerdur probably doesn't want her family dinner sullied by the freakish duo. You eat in relative silence, except of course for Morte's grunts as he tries to eat without any hands. Looking at him, you wonder how he manages to stay afloat.

The bed you get is small, but warm and a welcome end to an immensely long day. Morte meanwhile gets what looks like a nest in a bowl. You snicker at his expense and with that let sleep take you.

And forget.

…

"Chief? Hey Chief! Wake up!"

You do wake up. To the voice of the… floating skull!?

"What the fuck!?"

"Yeah, what the fuck!? I forgot how the long the living need to sleep. I've been up for hours floating aro-"

"What are you?"

He/she/it stares at you. "I'm a fan of jokes chief. But jokes are usually funny."

"What's also funny are floating talking skulls acting as if that's normal."

"Well in a world with daedric lords, batshit magicians, and now apparently dragons, I'd say a skull is pretty normal, wouldn't you say?"

"Dragons? Dragons are extinct."

He/she/it stares hard at you again.

"You get into the skooma cabinet or something?"

"I'll ask you one more time skull. Who are you?"

"Uh, hello? Morte, the main man? Fellow prisoner from Helgen? Women want to be with him? Men want to be him?"

"Ha! If nothing else, you're always good for a laugh skull!" A blond-haired woman walks into the bedroom with a cup of tea. "Figured you'd want one of these before you hit the road. It's a about a day's march to Whiterun so you'd better start it with a clear head."

"Excuse me maam, but where am I, who are you, and since when can skulls float!?"

Gerdur looks at you confused then back at the skull.

"I got nothing," he/she/it says.

The next hour is the most bizarre you can ever recall. Of course you can't seem to recall much before you woke up. Except that woman in your dreams.

You listen to a bizarre tale of you, a dragon, an execution, and a skull. You have to interrupt numerous times when Morte as he calls himself (real cute you think) starts to go off about his heroics and how all the women were cheering him on. Morte! Morte! Morte! And to top it all off, you now had to travel with this psychopath?

"Seriously chief. How do you not remember this? You didn't bump your head in your sleep, did you?"

"No it's not that. This happens all the time. I just forget."

"Memory problems? Why didn't you tell me yesterday?"

"I forgot," you smile.

"Well then how have you gotten by this long?"

You pause for a moment. Now and then memories come back when you see something familiar. You look around and then notice…

"A journal. I had a journal. I wrote in it everyday." You look at the skull. "Have you seen one"

"No", the woman Gerdur spoke up. "You didn't have anything on you but what you brought from Helgen."

"Start a new one then chief. No big loss."

"No big loss except all the years of memories gone! Including maybe why I can't remember! A whole life forgotten!"

"Then start a new life." You look up to see Gerdur looking at you in concern. "From what I can see, your old life wasn't very grand. And we need you here in Skyrim to warn about the dragons. Whoever you were before, you are now in this fight."

Hod whistles. "Damn woman. Now I remember why I married you."

"You and me both," said Morte.

"Shut it!"

You debate a rebuttal but realize there's little other option now.

"Fine. I'll go warn your dirty city. But I'll need a new journal. Without it, we'll have this everyday."

"Everyday? Oh sweet Hermaeus."

Gerdur nods and grabs a little brown diary. Looking it over, you can't help but notice a faint smell.

"Is this blood?"

"Yes it has seen better days. But it should do the job. Just write down knowledge and make sure to look it over whenever possible."

"And if all else fails chief, just ask me! I'll be your best source of information any day! Just listen to my advice and you can't go wrong!"

You all give him that look.

You were meant to be gone by 8:00. But between your amnesia and Morte's verbal warfare with Hod. You were off by noon. Which meant a night in the dirt, while having to keep an eye out for Imperial soldiers.

"Goodbye Gerdur. If you ever get tired of this place and want a real man, send me a letter."

"Some advice sir," Gerdur turns to you. "Lose him as soon as possible. He's not worth it."

"Noted. Well guess we're off. Thank you."

"Good luck wherever your path takes you, um Nameless One."

Morte snorts. "Nameless One. I'll stick with chief."

"Apologies. I just realized I still don't know your name."

"If I ever find it," you turn away, "I'll let you know.

 


	3. Chapter 3: Whiterun

"There she is chief! Whiterun! Home to the Companions, some giant dragon trap or whatever, and the hottest babes on this entire continent!"  
You do not immediately respond, instead rubbing your arm after that nasty encounter with some imperial soldiers. They mistook you for a daedra. A daedra! You? With your dashing, admittedly scarred looks. Also, what is a daedra, you ask yourself  
As you walk through farm fields towards the city on the hill, you start to wonder how the citizens are going to take a zombie-looking Redguard, and a floating skull who couldn't shut up if his life depended on it.  
"No mercy!"  
You turn to your companion. "What'd you say?"  
"Uh, I think it came from over there," he nods.  
In the field next to you, you see a15 ft tall man fighting two people armed with axes. One is a man dressed in heavy metal, armor and the other is a loosely dressed woman with war paint.  
"Some kind of giant, huh? Well, we came to warn about a dragon, not a giant right Morte? Morte?"  
"I'm coming, my love!"  
Morte goes flying straight at the big guy, only to be swatted out of the sky. Dashing over to assist your friend (wait, is he your friend? He's really annoying) you drive your sword straight into the giant's knee. The titan screams in anguish and the woman strikes between his eyes. The beast falls over onto the ground.  
The two fighters pause to admire their work then turn to you in shock.  
"Wow," she finally says.  
"I know right? All those perfectly good potatoes squashed."  
"No I mean, wow that was quite impressive and wow, what the hell happened to you? You look like you came straight from the goddamn blood war!"  
"Nope. Just an execution."  
They look at each other incredulously then back at you. "Who –"  
"Sir Morte, my lady!" The skull shoots past you to talk to the revealing woman. If they were incredulous before, they are now in total shock.  
"I am Morte, survivor of Helgen! King of calcium! Men want to be me, women want to be with me!"  
"Everyone except a companion that is," The man steps in front of the woman, and looks at you. "Is this your pet? Is he going to be a problem?"  
"Pet? If anything, he's my pet! Without me, he'd be wandering around an amnesia with no idea where to go!"  
"Right," the woman brushes him aside. "From what I see, he can take care of himself. Going up against a giant, that takes some guts. What's your name stranger?"  
"Let's go with Adahn."  
"Well Adahn, I don't know much about you except that you apparently possess great strength, courage, and can take quite a beating. Those are valued traits among the mercykillers."  
"Mercykillers?"  
"She means companions," the man steps forward. "Don't you Aela?"  
"Aela?" Morte drools. "I think I just died again."  
"No Farkas. I mean mercykillers," the woman pushed back. "That is who we are, that is who we were meant to be."  
"Can't decide on a name huh? Kind of like me," you observe.  
"We are the world famous companions," Farkas insists. "But throughout our history, there have been those who have insisted we take a harsher stance."  
"Companions are too weak. Their intentions are good, but they show mercy to their foes, letting them live to kill another day."  
"See, this is why I never joined," Morte mutters to you. "They can't even agree on what their purpose is. Just like you," he winks.  
"I doubt you could even join," Aela turns to you. "You on the other hand scarred man, definitely have potential. If you seek to uphold justice, come to Jorrvaskr here in Whiterun and become a champion for justice."  
"She's got a point there," Farkas turns to leave. "You've got potential. Join the companions and we can find out how much."  
"You mean mercykillers," Aela insists.  
"No, I mean companions."  
"Mercykillers."  
"Companions."  
You watch the two continue to bicker as they walk towards the town then turn to Morte who continues to stare sorrowfully after Aela.  
"What do you think Morte?"  
"What do I think? I think I've been wasting my life with Gerdur when I could have someone like her?"  
"I mean, what do you think about their offer to join the companions?"  
"Oh that. I don't know. It sounds like they aren't that well coordinated. Unlike us."  
"You sure seemed into that hunter."  
"Oh the fanservice is great. But the companions are a strange bunch. They're all about battle and brotherhood, which as you can tell isn't really my thing. Worse still, they get some really strange characters in there."  
"Then it sounds perfect for us," you comment.  
Morte sighs. "Listen chief. What you want to do with your life is up to you. As someone whose been around for awhile, let me offer some advice. It's risky to get caught up with factions like this lest you go down with the ship. It's better to form your own ideas about how the world works rather than have someone else force it down your throat. Out here, you make your own rules. When you join a group like that, you follow their rules."  
"I understand Morte. I'll consider your advice. It's just- I've wandered for as long as I can remember."  
"You can't remember before yesterday."  
"Oh right. I just mean I don't think I've ever belonged anywhere in my life. That's what I want really, to belong."  
Morte nods and makes his way to the town on the hill. You follow, thinking about the offer of the companions. Or is it the mercykillers?  
…  
"We'll pay whatever it takes. But we must have more swords for the imperial soldiers."  
You come upon a man in imperial armor having a discussion with a woman in a blacksmith apron.  
"I just can't fill an order that size on my own," the woman responds. "Why don't you swallow that stubborn pride of yours and ask Eorlund Gray-Mane for help?"  
"Ha! I'd sooner bend my knee to Ulfric Stormcloak. Besides, Gray-Mane would never make steel for the Legion."  
"Fine," the woman sighs. "Have it your way. I'll take the job, but don't expect a miracle."  
"I already see a miracle in front of me. A blacksmith being treated with such disrespect!"  
"Uh, Morte."  
"No! Speak to that woman with some appreciation for what she can do that you cannot!"  
"Morte, I think she can handle it herself."  
"I will not stand for such injustice. I will never stand aside for a man who does not see true beauty in front of him! Raaaah!"  
"Morte, No!" You grab the skull trying to keep him away from the shocked man as he runs away.  
"That's right berk! Run! Lest you end up like Ulfric with only 9 fingers!"  
When he finally calms down, you let him go, though he continues to stew. Meanwhile, you notice the blacksmith woman has gone back to her forgery. Before you turn around, Morte is already floating over.  
"My lady, I am so sorry you had to deal with scum like that. If there is anything I can do to ease your burden, tell me and-"  
"Make a dagger."  
"I'm sorry?"  
"Make a dagger. That would help."  
"Oh. Well all right. I was hoping for something a bit more physical."  
"This is physical. Put some back into it."  
"How do you make one?" You walk up and ask.  
"You don't know…no? Allow me to show."  
And so she does show you how to work a forge, with which you make a dagger. She shows how to use a grindstone to sharpen that dagger. She even shows how to make a helmet from a tanning rack. As you're doing this, you get these…visions. You can see yourself in another place in a tent with sand outside. You imagine you're in Hammerfell which Morte says has lots of desert.  
"You learn…lurn? You lurn fast. Have you done this before?"  
"Maybe."  
"Keep the helmet and dagger. They might…mite? They mite prove useful."  
"Right," you respond taking note of her odd speech patterns. You place the helmet on Morte. "I think this is just your size." The skull grins (you think) and floats onward.  
"Let's see them treat me like a joke now! Come on chief! The jarl awaits his brave warriors!"  
"He's quite a character isn't he," the blacksmith muses.  
"I guess dying makes you not give a damn," you say.  
"It's not dying, it's his nature. Alive or not, he is still a man."  
You smirk. "I suppose so. In this life or the next, he is who he is. He retains his nature."  
"Indeed, and what can change the nature of a man, hmmm?" She turns to you expectantly. You think she wants a response.  
"Uhhh. I'm not sure. I think I'm still trying to discover my own nature."  
She looks disappointed. "Well, when you find it, let me know…no? Let me no."  
You nod at the strange blacksmith and hurry to catch up to Morte. You turn back to see her staring at you. No, staring through you as you run up to the Jarl's house.  
…  
It was relatively easy to find the Jarl's residence of Dragonsreach. It was not without drama though as the entire city could not help from gawking at the bizarre pair. The guard at the door to the reach gave you a hard time getting in, eventually calling out the head of security.  
"What is the problem here," a female armored dark elf comes out, her eyes widening in surprise at you. "Oh."  
"I've got a message for the Jarl from Riverwood. They need help."  
She sighed. "All right come on through. No funny business or else."  
You follow her looking at Morte. "No flirting this time?"  
"Not my type."  
You walk into the massive hall. A great fire lies in the center with tables on both sides. On the far side a blonde man with a blonde beard and braids in his hair (just like every man on this damn continent) sits in a throne speaking with some half bald guy.  
"I saw it, I tell you. A modron with 4 arms!"  
"I'm sure Jarl Balgruuf."  
"No, no, no! I'm serious Proventus! Four arms instead of wings, two crossbows! It looked up to me and asked are you my father?"  
"Ahem," the dark elf cleared her throat. "Jarl Balgruff, this… man came from Riverwood. Claims they need help."  
"I'll bet. Look at you! What happened there?"  
"Dragon happened."  
Everyone goes silent.  
"You saw it, you saw the dragon?"  
"We were passing by Helgen, me and my friend here," you lie thinking it best to leave the execution bit out. "And we saw it descend on the town, leveling it to ash. Last I saw it was heading this way. Oh and Riverwood would like a hand."  
"Please for the sake of Gerdur," Morte begs. "Such a fine woman does not deserve to burn alongside that pig Hod!"  
"Uh, indeed." The jarl turns to the dark elf. "Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood. They're there to evacuate in case of an emergency, not fight."  
"Lord, can we really afford to send any troops," urged Proventus. "We need all the men we can muster."  
"I will not leave my people unprotected! This is the greatest threat to these lands since Ravel Puzzlewell herself."  
"With all due respect lord, I believe that honor goes to Vecna."  
"Whatever! The point is, we must defend our lands. Irileth, once you have sent the battalion return here so we may discuss the defense of this city."  
The jarl then turns to you. "Perhaps there is something else you can help me with. Follow me."  
"What if I don't want to," you ask. But alas the jarl is already heading to a side room. Heading in, you find the jarl explaining the situation to a hooded man.  
"So this walking corpse can get the dragonstone," the hooded man asks quizically.  
"I believe so. Explain what he needs to get, and I'm sure he can handle it from there."  
"Hmm." The hooded man turns to you. "Do you know about Bleak Falls Barrow?"  
"Bleak Falls Barrow?" Morte gasps. "Those are the ruins above Riverwood! I pointed them out on the way from Helgen!"  
"Right. Within those ruins somewhere is something called a dragonstone. It contains knowledge about dragons that may prove useful. I want you to go up there, find it and bring it back. Simple enough for simple people, don't you think?"  
"Simple people my ass!" Morte barks. "Come on chief, we don't owe this snotty mage anything! We've done our part, now let's head to Solitude and catch a ride off this continent!"  
"I assure you this is not a problem confined just to Skyrim. If the dragons return, all of the Prime Material Plane will be engulfed in war and chaos. Nowhere you go will be safe. At least help us gather this, and from there, do whatever you wish. Assuming you're still set on fleeing unlike a true nord."  
"I'm actually a redguard apparently, but fine. We'll go get this "dragonstone" and bring it back."  
"We. You mean you and this enchanted skull."  
"Right, my partner."  
"Partner? More like boss! I'm leading this crew berk! And don't you even think of nabbing center stage!"  
"Yes, yes. I'm sure you'll have all sorts of fun working out your little hierarchy. Off you go."  
You walk out on your way back to Riverwood and pass some children sitting at a table. The boy among them looks up at you sneering.  
"New servant? Fetch me some mead please. And let me take a look at that floating trinket."  
"Take a look at this, brat!" Morte bites at the lad making him yelp.  
The skull cackles as you roll your eyes and step out of the reach.  
…  
"Arise, children of Talos, for you have been deceived! Ignore the lies of our elven overlords, for Talos is the one true god of this land and all lands!"  
From what you can tell, this priest has been here for some time, yelling his arse off. The townsfolk walking by occasionally stop to listen or point and look.  
"They tell us it is wrong, to believe in the salvation of the heavens! Today they take away our faith! But what of tomorrow? Your homes? Your businesses? Your children? Your very lives!?"  
"How long has he been doing this," you ask a passer-by.  
"Him?" She giggles. "He's out here everyday. He'd better watch himself. Once the empire takes over, he'll go to jail for that."  
"And what of the empire? They are but slaves of the Thalmor! Upholding their will while stomping out our own! Denying us our destiny!"  
"So, you uh single," Morte casually asks the passer-by.  
"Yes. Why?"  
"Oh thank the Lady of Pain!"  
"So rise up children of Talos! Rise!" At this point, the priest has begun walking around to the nearby crowd, grasping their hands and shaking them fervently. "Rise all children of Skyrim and embrace the word of mighty Talos! He who is both man and divine!"  
"Hey chief. This woman here has some interesting… wares. I'm gonna go take a look."  
"Morte if this is an attempt to get some time with her "girls"…"  
"You there! Child of Hammerfell!"  
You turn to see the priest grasping your hand. "My child! The horrors I see you have endured to your very flesh! See, brothers and sisters! See what the Thalmor bring us!"  
You turn to Morte for help, but see he's already floating off with that woman, grinning at your expense.  
"Come, my child! Sit! Fear no more! For Talos, the greatest of all men and dieties will care for you now!"  
"Uh." Before you can respond, he has his hand on your forehead and seems to be chanting some random ass shit.  
"Trust in me, Whiterun! Trust in the words of Heimskr! For I am the chosen of Talos! I alone have been anointed by the Ninth to spread his holy word!"  
"How much for a circle of Talos?"  
"Ah so you have noticed, brother!" The priest finally lets go of you to turn to the potential customer. Taking this chance to flee, you end up bumping into someone else.  
"Sir would you care for a donation?"  
The man you just bumped into is dressed in a brown robe. He gives off the scent of dead bodies, his hair is disheveled and you can see he's covered in caked blood.  
"I'm sorry. Don't you mean, would you like to give a donation?"  
"No, I mean would you like a donation?"  
You turn to ask Morte for his take. Of course, he's chasing after some women at a nearby vendor.  
"I assume there's some price for this?"  
"Oh yes indeed. All you have to do is sing this contract! It says that upon your death, your body will be turned over to the dustmen. For zombie labor."  
"Dustmen? Labor? Zombie?"  
"Back off dusty!"  
At the top of the stairs next to you, you see the male companion you met out in the field, marching down quickly and pushing the two of you apart.  
"Ah, a mercykiller. It's an honor to meet those who continue Vhailor's great work of leading others to the true death. Even if you take passion from it."  
"Don't you dare compare me to that maniac! And you aren't getting this chap's body. Even if he would make a fine-looking zombie!"  
"But sir. There's 5,000 coins in this for the good sir! Think of the beauties in life, you could gain with such an amount of money!"  
"5,000? Let me take a look at that contract again."  
"No, don't!" The companion yanks the paper out of your hand and waves it in front of the robed man. "First of all dusty, you don't think anything in life is beautiful. All you care about is this true death nonsense! And second, 5,000 coins aren't worth an eternity of servitude in a smelly mortuary. Come on scarred man."  
"Wait, sir! The true death awaits!" But alas, you find yourself being led away  
"Best to stay away from the dustmen. Someone with as many scars as you will be a prime target."  
"What do you mean? What was he saying about the true death?"  
"Dustmen believe that everyone is better off dead than alive. They think the only way to true salvation is through death."  
"Well there might be some truth there." Morte comes sauntering over. "I died, and it turned out to be the best thing that ever happened!"  
"Really," the companion (What was his name again? Fakras? Fartass?) raises an eyebrow.  
"Yeah, have you seen me? Ladies can't get enough of me! Right? Aela!"  
"Piss off," the scantily clad woman barks. She turns to you. "I heard you talking to the guards at the Dragonsreach."  
"Oh, so a sneak as well as a huntress?"  
"You said something about a dragon." She looks at you expectantly.  
You and Morte look at each other.  
"It's true," you decide to come clean. "A dragon has returned. I figure you'll know soon enough."  
"You were right to tell us. The mercykillers will now prepare to uphold justice."  
"Mercykillers," Fatrak, Faktak, whatever questions. "We've been over this. We're the companions."  
"Deny it all you want, but mercykillers are what Skyrim needs right now. When that beast comes, I want someone who will not falter at the sight of injustice, don't you?"  
"Actually, I'd prefer someone who won't stab me the instant I'm caught looking at them funny." He then looks at you funny. "Have you thought about our offer?"  
"Offer?" Morte whispers a reminder. "Oh right. Well, actually the jarl has us hunting something that may or may not provide information on dragons."  
"A noble effort. You are committed to justice. As I said, the mercykillers could use someone like you."  
"Companions!"  
"I appreciate the offer. But to be honest, I'm not sure how much longer I'll be in Skyrim. Once I get the stone, I might take off. I'm just not sure Skyrim is the place for me. It's… cold."  
"Is that meant to be a redguard joke?" Aela steps forward and grabs your shoulder. "You have the spirit of a Nord within you. I saw it in the field. This is the place for you."  
"Besides it's not like the rest of Tamriel is much better," whathisname says. "You could leave Tamriel if you want, but I wouldn't advise it."  
"Why not," you ask. To which all three respond simply.  
"Blood War." Aela steps back.  
"I hope you will reconsider. Remember mercy is weakness."  
The man rolls his eyes. "Good luck."  
You give a wave. "Later Fuckass."  
Morte quickly whispers in your ear again. You respond to the shocked man. "Farkas. Sorry, Farkas." You then quickly leave as Aela roars in laughter.  
"Chief, you heard that guy's name a few hours ago, and you already forgot. That's bad news."  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you plead. "I can't help it. I can't remember. No matter how hard I try."  
"Have you written in your journal today?"  
"Journal?"  
"Oh right, forgot that too. Listen chief, write down everything you can in this journal, ok?"  
"Oh, ok." You follow his advice and start to write down everything you can recall.  
"And remember- oh right you probably don't. Well anyway, if you find yourself forgetting something, ask me. Talking is what I'm all about right?"  
"Updated my journal."  
Morte stops. "I'm sorry. What?"  
"I updated my journal."  
Morte sighs. "Oh this is going to be a picnic."


	4. Chapter 4: Bleak Falls

"No."

"Come on Gerdy! The heroes just returned from endless peril! We need food, and ale, and whatever else war heroes do!"

"War hero? Go and fight for Ulfric Stormcloak, and then maybe I'll call you a war hero!"

"Gerdy, Ulfric ain't no hero. He's just a glory hog seeking power."

"You dare? That's it! Out! Out! I don't care if you're Balgruff's chosen or whatever. You can sleep with the pigs!"

The door slams shut. The two of you stare at each other.

"So, you have relationship problems, I take it?"

"I just don't get it. I'm not a bad guy! I've got a big heart. Just because I don't have a sweet hard body with pecs or a beard."

"Hmm, penis envy," you write this down in your journal. "Updated my journal."

"Hey! Don't write that!"

"Giving Gerdur a hard time, Morte?" You turn to see a woman in an apron watching you with some amusement.

"Hardly, Delphine! She's just under Hod's spell!"

"If you need a place to stay, I've got a room open for you and," she stares at you with a raised eyebrow. "What are you exactly?"

"My own personal draugr bodyguard! Raised him from the depths of hell itself to do my bidding!"

"Right," she smirks. "Well come along draugr bodyguard. Way I hear it, we have you to thank for all this extra security, so you get tonight free."

You follow the woman into her own personal inn. Inside is a man at the front desk scrubbing it. He looks up and gives you and Morte the usual shocked expression.

"Jesus Delphine. Are we so strapped for cash that we're bringing the dead in?"

"These dead encountered a dragon and survived, Orgnar. Meanwhile, you can't remember to keep an eye on the ale!"

"What's wrong with the ale?" He uncorks a bottle sniffs and pulls back in disgust.

"It's going bad! We need a new batch. Go fetch it while I show the dead to their room."

"Yes maam." However just as you're about to head on in, a man bursts through the front door.

"They've taken it! They've taken my treasure!"

"Calm down Lucan. I think you've had too much ale again."

"Not drunk," he insists. "Not drunk am I! Someone robbed me lucky charm!"

"That is shocking," Morte quips. "Not sure who would look at you and think lucky."

"This is serious skull! They took me golden claw! The thieves! Came in the middle of night they did! But I saw them! Saw them running up the mountain to Bleak Falls I did!"

You and Morte stare at each other.

"How ironic," you speak up. "That's where we were headed actually."

"You are?" The man looks at you and then his eyes widen as if in understanding. "Ah but of course! The dead know their own burial grounds do they not? If anyone can find me lucky charm, it would be you!"

"Well the dead need rest too," Morte turns back towards the room. "We'll keep an eye out for it I suppose."

"Please, if you could, I would be forever in your debt. Anything I could offer would be yours!"

"Could you hook me up with Gerdur?"

The man goes quiet, his face flushing red.

"Let it go Morte," Delphine says. "If you're combing the ruins tomorrow, you'll need a proper night's rest- Oh for the Lady's sake!"

"The true death awaits us all," a man in brown robes similar to the one in Whiterun stands in the doorway holding up a book. "For a mere 500 coins, you can have this guide to the true death and get started on your journey to nothingness and absence of passion today!"

"No, no, no! No dusties here! Sovngarde for me thank you! Take your death worshipping crap and get out!"

"But you can be free of this shadow of life for only 500 coins, my lady! True and utter bliss awaits!"

"Out!" While they argue, you slip quietly into your room.

"I met one of those yesterday right," you ask Morte.

"Yep, for a people who hate life, the dusties sure are good at survival. You can find them pretty much anywhere, mourning the living."

"Mourning the living? Isn't it the dead who are to be mourned?"

"Not to them. In their eyes, it's the living who need salvation."

"Oh, so we're saved you and I."

"Tomorrow, we may be."

You wake up in an unfamiliar bed with a floating skull grinning down at you.

"Ready for another brush with death chief?"

"Who the fuck are you?"

The skull looks confused for a second but then laughs as if he remembers something. He then points to a journal by the table. After picking it up and reading it, the memories come flooding back.

"Oh crap," you mutter as you recall what you have to do.

"The skull (Morte) gives a grim smile. "Yep."

…...

The next day starts off with a long hike up the mountainside. Morte has to wait for you a few times as you pull yourself up the rocky cliffside.

"What was it you said before? That I should get legs? From where I'm floating, they look overrated."

"You know what legs come with? Hands. I hear it's popular with the ladies."

That wipes that smirk off his face. Pulling yourself up to the top, you finally come face to face with the ruins.

"What's the story about this place?"

"An old Nordic tomb, built as a place of worship to… something."

"To dragons?"

Morte looks shocked. "Is that a fact?"

"I don't know, but if we're here to find something about dragons, it must be a place with information about dragons. And what better place to find such information than a place of worship?'

Morte thinks for a second. "That's a curious thought. Guess you do have some brains."

"I have a brain. It just chooses to go blank sometimes. Shh!"

You hear someone talking over the next ledge. Sneaking across and peeking over, you see a group of men huddled around chatting angrily.

"A draugr robbed you? Are you serious?'

"I swear it, boss. Snatched it right out of my hands and went charging in there."

"Could it be after the treasure? I ain't never heard of a draugr taking interest in anything except slaughter."

"The draugr are corpses, right," you ask Morte quietly.

"Right. Animated corpses usually found in dark places like this. Dangeorus and violent to be sure. But I've never heard of one stealing something. That's new."

"As is this. A talking skull!" You look to see you've been spotted and the men are now rushing you.

"The dead are trying to ambush us! Let's put them back in their crypts!"

You suddenly get a vision. You're in a desert, a fellow redguard is charging at you with a spear. You sidestep the man and swing your sword through his arm severing it.

The man falls over but you see the rest of his squad charging. You hold your sword steady, ready to meet them when you hear a voice call out.

"My love, duck!"

You do duck and a sword goes over your head stabbing one of the charging men in the stomach. You thrust your sword backwards into the man's knee. An arrow then flies into the eye of another man about to leap. A fellow redguard woman leaps into the fray. You find yourself back to back, fighting off the traitors until at last you two are the only ones left standing.

"Behind," the woman yells out. You thrust your sword backwards taking out the stray sneaking up on you.

"You're getting sloppy," the woman comments.

"You dare question my skill after all this time?"

"I'm just saying, you would be dead if not for me."

You sigh. "I suppose so."

"You suppose? You wouldn't have even made it this far without me!"

"Yes, yes. I know. I could do without my whole army," you turn smiling inward. "But not without you, my sweet."

"Sometimes, I think, you don't appreciate all I've done for you."

"Oh but, I do," you lie leaning in close. "I do love you. More than anything else. I do this all for us. For our life together."

Her doubt disappears as she falls for your lie. "I can think of a way you can repay me," she leans in.

"Of course." You lean in too.

"I love you," she whispers wholeheartedly.

"And I love you," you lie. "Deinorra."

"Mmph, chief. Chief!"

You snap back to the present, finding your lips pressed against Morte's, his eyes wide.

You quickly pull back as he coughs and spits.

"What the hell? First you go all ninja warrior on those guys, and then we're making out?"

"I didn't- I didn't know-"

"Yeah, clearly you don't." He looks to the sky as if in prayer. "Why oh why did my first kiss as a skull have to be from him?"

"I thought- I thought you were someone else. A woman."

Morte shakes his head. "So in addition to being amnesiac, you're also insane. Good to know you'll have my back in there."

"No, I wasn't even here! I was elsewhere in a desert, fighting men with a woman."

"Well unless you can be in two places at once, I don't see how that's possible. From where I stood, you were taking all those guys out like a pro, and then got a celebratory kiss from me without my permission!"

"I swear I was there! It was real!"

"Like a memory," Morte pauses to think. "We can discuss this somewhere else besides a cold mountain top. Let's get in there, grab this stone thingy and get out. Aela awaits!"

A great start to cave spelunking.

…...

Much of the journey through the ruins is in relative silence. Morte is probably still embarrassed from that unfortunate incident back outside. You catch him staring at you a few times, only to turn away blushing. At least you think he's blushing. But without skin, it's hard to tell.

You meanwhile are lost in thought regarding that vision. Who was that woman? And why did you feel nothing when you kissed her? You're too lost in thought to even notice the stunning work around you. Not to mention the bodies of bandits you come across.

After about ten minutes of walking, you try to open up some dialogue with Morte, when you suddenly find yourself walking through… spider webs?

"Uh oh," Morte mutters. "I know what made this."

"Hhhhhhhhhhhhhppppppppppppp mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm."

You hear slurred speech coming from a chamber blocked off by a thick webbing. Rushing forward, you hack at the webbing until it comes apart, letting you into the chamber.

You look all around until you see a figure covered in more webbing on the other side of the chamber. You can't make out their face, but you hear them speak again.

"Llllllllllllluuuuuuuuuukkkkkkkkkkkkkk uuuuuuuuuuuuuuutttttttttttt."

No sooner do you hear whatever the hell that is before a shadow comes over you, followed by a massive spider.

"Frostbite spider," Morte yells. "Don't let it bite you chief! This thing's got serious venom!"

The monster comes limping at you. You can see it's missing one of its legs. It lunges at you but you manage to back out of range of its fangs.

Morte comes up from behind and gives it a bite of his own. Much to your surprise, it actually appears to do some damage. The beast attempts to turn around and grab the pesky skull (hey who can blame it) giving you the opportunity to stab it in the mouth, slaying the beast.

Morte spits out the bit of spider in his mouth and grins at you.

"Huh, guess I choose the right prisoner."

"Hhhhhhhhhhhhhppppppppppppp mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm."

Hearing the figure in the webbing call out again, you rush over and start hacking to set them free.

"Morte give me a hand here!"

Nuh uh chief. Have you ever eaten spider webs? No amount of floss'l get that out."

Eventually you hack enough webbing to pull the prisoner free. As the figure coughs out web in their mouth, you hear an audible gasp from Morte.

"Get away chief. Get away now."

Unsure what he fears, you turn back to the….. corpse standing up. If people thought you were ugly, they had clearly never seen an actual dead body.

"Draugr!" Morte rushes to your side. "We traded one monster for another!"

"Duuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn bffffffffffffrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaddddddddddeeeeeeee."

You pause as this woman's corpse raises her hands to her sides in a gesture of what you assume to be peace. Looking closely, you think you can see worry etched into her face

"Chief, what are you waiting for? This is a draugr! Mindless savages! Don't show them mercy, because they sure won't show you any!"

"Ppppppppppplllllllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeesssssssss, nnnnnnnnnnnnooooooooooo."

Taken aback by the concern in the corpse's words and expressions, you decide to the stupid thing and approach her despite Morte's objection.

"You can talk. Do you understand me?"

She nods.

"How can you talk? Morte here says draugr can't."

"Ssssssssssskkkkkkkkkkkkkkoooooooooooollllllllll ttttttttttttttooooooooollllllllkkkkkkkkkksssssss."

"Skull talks?" She nods.

"She's got a point there Morte. If you can talk, who's to say they can't?"

"It's not the same. Draugr are made to be mindless. In all the centuries, there's never been a case of a sentient one."

"Wwwwwwwwwiiiiiiiiiiii eeeeeeeeeggggggzzzzzziiiiiiissssssttttt."

"Well this one can clearly think and respond. Even if I don't know what she's saying."

"Mmmmeeeennnnn nnnooooo hhhuuuurrrrrmmmm."

You listen closely. If you pay attention, you can make out words.

"Say that again."

"Mmmmeeeennnnn nnnooooo hhhuuuurrrrrmmmm."

You slowly piece it together.

"Mean no harm. You mean no harm."

She nods in relief.

"Who are you?"

"Ssssssstttttttttuuuuullllllll Mmmmmmmmmuuuuuuurrrrrrrrriiiiii."

"Ok, I assume the second part is Mary. But I can't determine the first."

"Ssssssstttttttttuuuuullllllll."

"Stool," asks Morte. She shakes her head. "How about stall?" Not that either.

"Stale," you say. She nods her head.

"Stale Mary," repeats Morte. "Someone did not like this chit."

"It's nice to meet you Mary," you say. You think she smiles in response. "Why are you here?"

"Llllllluuuuuuuukkkkkkkkiiiiiiinnnnnngggg fffffffffuuurrrrrrrr oooooooooorrrrrrrrr dddddddddddeeeeeeeedddddd (Looking for other dead).

"Other dead? You mean other draugr?"

She shakes her head. "Ddddddddddeeeeeeeeeedddddddd lllllllikkkkkkkk mmmmmmeeeeeee. Aaaaaaaaaawwwwwwaaaaaarrrrrrr (Dead like me. Aware).

"There's other sentient dead? And you think they're here?"

"Hhhhhhhhhhooooooopppppp (Hope)."

Another thought suddenly springs to mind.

"Mary, some bandits outside were talking about a draugr robbing them of something. Was that you?"

She pauses for a second thinking, then nods. She pulls out of her pocket a golden treasure shaped like a claw.

"That'd be old Lucan's lucky charm," Morte says.

"Mary, did you steal that from Riverwood." She shakes her head.

"Bbbbbbbbbaaaaaaaannnnnnndddddddduuussssss (Bandits)."

"Why did you do it Mary?"

"Nnnnnnnnnniiiiiidddddddd iiiiiiiiittttttttttt tggggggggggeeeeeeettttttttthhhhhhhhhh iiiiiiiinnnnnnnssssssssiiiiiiddddddd (Need it to get inside.)."

"Uh hello? We're already inside," Morte shouts.

She shakes her head again.

"Deeeeepppppppuuuurrrrrr. Dddddddddduuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrr lllllllaaaaaaccccccccddddddddd. Ccccccccccccllllllllaaaaaaaaaaa kkkkkkkkkkkiiiiiiiiiiiii (Deeper. Door locked. Claw key).

"And you think the dead like you might be there?" She shrugs.

"Well Mary. We happen to want something in this place too. And I'm betting it's behind that door you're referring to. What say we work together to get what we want?"

She thinks for a second, then nods her head in agreement.

"Great," You write this information down. "Updated my journal."

"All right! Woo!" Morte whistles. "Finally a little feminine power to this macho group! And dead too! Baby, we're going places!"

She gives you the usual look people do when he says stuff like that. You make a cuckoo signal with your hands, and she giggles.

…...

You press on further into the temple, relative silence. Except for Morte who of course can't resist chatting up the newest addition to you ragtag little team. It tends to be a mostly one-sided conversation, especially since Morte can't understand her speech like you can. It's quite amusing. Until Mary offers a warning.

"Bbbbbbbbbbeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiinnnnnnndddddd yyyyyyyuuuuuu (Behind you)."

Indeed behind you from out of nowhere you see a corpse similar to Mary running at you with a sword. This one however shows no interest in friendliness.

"I don't suppose these are the nice dead you're looking for?"

She shakes her head then hearing growling in front, she turns to find two more charging.

"What's this," Morte shouts. "You dare challenge the mighty Morte? Who men want to be and women want to be with? I died once berks! I shan't die again! Have at thee!"

With this he lunges at one of the corpses biting it in the neck. The creature roars in pain and starts thrashing trying to force the skull off. Meanwhile its partner runs over to help but gets stabbed in the throat by Mary.

Morte looks surprised. "Damn I sure know how to pick them."

She smiles maliciously.

You meanwhile are parrying with your own draugr. He's a toughie you observe. There's no fear in those eyes, no doubt of success. Only the will to spill blood.

Fortunately, you picked up a bit from that vision you had outside and in the end your redguard training prevails. Taking a minute to observe your kill, you then turn to the others.

"Monster," Morte shouts at Mary. "Killing one of your own kind!" They both snicker.

"So these are what most draugr are like," you observe.

Mary nods. "Cccccccuuuuuuurrrrrrrsssssssddddd. Ccccccccuuuuurrrrrrttttteeeeddd. Iiiiiiiinnnnnsssssaaaaavvvvveeeeeeeddd ttttttttggggggggaaaaaaarrrrrr (Cursed. Corrupted. Enslaved to guard)."

"Draugr are dead Nordic soldiers, twisted by magic to serve as personal soldiers," Morte adds on. "The dead don't need food, water or anything really. Just a simple spell and they'll do whatever you want."

"Really," you raise your eyebrow. "You could've fooled me."

Morte grins. "Hey, you know no one can tell me what to do chief. I go where I want, do what I please."

You roll your eyes. "I know. I should just get my own draugr battalion and fire you."

"Ah, but what draugr has my impeccable taste in women's clothing?"

You and Mary laugh your asses off as Morte quickly realizes how that sounds.

Pressing further in, you find several traps laid for you, including swinging axes, trap doors, and oil lamps falling from the ceiling that cover the oil covered ground in flames. This does lend some credibility to that arrogant mage's hypothesis, as well as Mary's. Someone wouldn't put all these traps here unless there were something well worth guarding.

You eventually come out into a wide open chamber. There's a lot to watch for in here you observe. The ground is covered in oil, a plate for a swinging door with spikes lies nearby, and the passage out also contains swinging axes.

"Sheesh, the welcome mat's all laid out for us. How much further?"

"Close Morte. Hang in there, just a little further."

"You said that twenty minutes ago," he whines. "This dragonstone better be worth it. Also there better not be any more draugr. Me and Mary here are enough."

As soon as he says that, nearby coffins swing open and draugr climb out advancing on you.

"Me and my big mouth. I don't think we can take them all this time."

"Yyyyyyyyyyyuuuuuuuuuuzzzzzzzz tttttttttrrrrrrrrrrrsssssssssssss (Use traps)."

Heeding her advice you point up at the lamp hanging from the ceiling.

"Morte knock that down! Mary, get them to activate that trap door!"

Morte cheerfully floats to the top and dislodges the lamp from the ceiling, sending it falling to the ground where it causes the oil to burst into flames, frying all the draugr unfortunate to be standing there.

Mary meanwhile runs over to the swinging door, jumping over the activation plate. The other draugr however lack her intelligence and step onto the plate, and wind up with a face full of spikes.

You raise your sword to join in the fight but then realize that the traps did indeed deal with them all.

"Thanks for the hand chief," Morte calls down. "Really appreciated you sticking your neck out for us there."

"I've done enough of the heavy lifting I think," you call up. "I think it was your turn."

Proceeding through the following passageway, you come across a long hallway at the end of which lies a door with symbols of various animals on it.

"Zzzzzziiiiiissssssttttttt (This it)." Mary pulls out the golden claw and holds it up to the door. You hear a click followed by the door opening. Within you see what appears to be a tear in reality itself, appearing as a blue hole.

"Ah now I understand. The claw's a portal key."

"A portal key?"

"Yeah. See chief. Portals like this can be found all over Tamriel. They can be anything from a door like this, to an object like a rock. Usually though, people don't know it because they don't have their key. Every portal's got something that makes it tick. It's usually an object like this, but it can even be the mood you're in or what you're thinking. And in this case, this claw is more than a decoration. It's apparently a key that lets you into the really secret chamber. It's probably been passed down as a family heirloom or something. No wonder that loony Lucan wants it back."

Nodding in understanding you take a step through the portal ahead of you and find yourself in another large open chamber.

Mary runs ahead looking around for any sign of the dead like her and you rush to help. But after a few minutes of searching, you come up with nothing except some gems and a bottle of poison.

"Nnnnnnnnnnoooooooottttt hhhhhhhuuuuuuuurrrrrr (Not here)," she says sadly. "Nnnnnnnooooooo dddddddddiiiiiiiidddddddddd lllllllliiiiiiiiikkkkkkkkk mmmmmmmmmmmm. Llllllllooooooonnnnnnn (No dead like me. Alone).

You put a comforting arm around her shoulder when Morte calls you over to the nearby wall.

"This seems very familiar," he mutters to himself. Taking a look in to see what he's talking about, you suddenly feel very off. As if knowledge is being jammed into your head.

The instant the experience passes, a coffin behind you opens up and an armored draugr with an axe comes out.

Not even thinking, you immediately use the knowledge you just learned and yell with all your might. A blast of wind comes out of your mouth and hits the draugr in the chest, sending him flying back.

Morte and Mary both look shocked, especially Morte.

"How did you do that? I never told you about that! Did you remember? You know what? Never mind! Fus doo rah!"

Morte yells and again sends the draugr off his feet. As he struggles to get to his feet, Mary stabs him through the heart.

"Wwwwwwwwwwuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrrrrr hhhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyy (Where are they)?"

But the corpse is now effectively that: a corpse with no story to tell.

As Mary stares down at her mindless brethren, you turn to Morte for some questions.

"How long have you been able to do that?"

"For ages! But I thought you already knew!"

"How could I know? Did you tell me?"

"Well, no. But I used it once during out escape from Helgen. When I saw you do it just know, I assumed maybe you remembered!"

"I didn't remember, because you left that part out apparently! I just learned it now from the wall over there!"

"A shout enscribed on a wall," Morte shakes his head. "That makes no sense. Shouts are taught from a teacher. They don't just leave them lying around for anyone to find. Come to think of it, you shouldn't be able to have done it even after seeing that. It took me years to get a shout that good. But you just took one look and poof! Instant master!"

"Zzzzzzzzzzziiiiiiisssssss yyyyyuuuuuuuussssss (This yours)?" You turn to see Mary holding up a stone tablet. Taking it from her hands, you see the tablet has writing on it. You can't make it out, but you can make out the image of something on it.

"That looks like a dragon. I think we've found what we came for Morte."

"Llllllllllkkkkkkkkkkiiiiiiiii uuuuuuuuu (Lucky you)," Mary mumbles.

You lay a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry Mary. I guess some legends aren't true."

"Iiiiiiissssssssssss ttttttrrrrrrrrrruuuuu. Hhhhhhhheeeeeeerrrrrrrrddddddd ffffffffffrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmm ffffffffrrrrrraaaaaaaannnnnnnnnn. Eeeeeeeelllllllssssssssswwwwwwooooorrrrrr (Is true. Heard from friend. Elsewhere)."

"Chief," Morte calls from a passageway above. "I think I found a way out!"

"All right. Be right there!" You take a last look around and notice a large treasure chest. Opening it, you find some gold, lockpicks, a necklace, and some kind of amulet. Feeling in the mood for hoarding, you pocket it and follow Mary up the passageway.

You find Mary has already pulled a nearby lever, opening a nearby door. Following it through, you find yourself back outside, where dawn has now settled.

"Well, we got what we wanted in the end. Guess it's back to Whiterun for us." Morte floats and looks over the side of the mountain. "I think I see a path down this way. If we follow it, we can be back to Whiterun by this evening."

"Really? I thought you'd take any opportunity to visit Riverwood and Gerdur."

Morte pauses for a second. "You know. I think that ship has sailed. I can't keep holding out a candle forever. Think it might be time to move on."

"Why that's very mature of you-"

"Plus who needs Gerdy, when I've got Aela? And no stuck up Hod to stand between us? Oh I can't wait to get back and receive a hero's welcome!"

"Gggggggooooo lllllluuuuuuukkkkk (Good luck)," Mary says heading the other way.

"You're not coming with us," you ask.

"Nnnnnnndddddddd rrrrrrreeeeeettttttttuuuuuuunnnnnnn iiiiiisssssss (Need return this)," she holds up the golden claw, "nnnnnnnnnn ffffffiiiiiiinnnnnnn ddddddddeeeeeeeeddddddd lllllllliiiiiiiikkkkkkk mmmmmmmmmm (and find dead like me)."

"We could help you Mary. You don't have to do this alone."

She shakes her head. "Nnnnnnnoooooootttttttt wwwwwwwwwweeeeeeeelllllllccccccccmmmm nnnnnn ttttttttttooooooooooowwwwwwww. Hhhhhhhhhvvvvvvv yyyyyyyuuuuuuuuuuurrrrr ooooooonnnnnnnnnneeeeeee pppppppppttttthhhhhhh (Not welcome in town. Have your own path)."

"I don't know," Morte grins. "We stand out like sore thumbs and we got by okay."

"Nnnnnnnnnnneeeeeeddddddd ffffffiiiiiiinnnnnnn ddddddddeeeeeeeeddddddd lllllllliiiiiiiikkkkkkk mmmmmmmmmm. Tttttt ddddddddduuuuunnnnjjjjuuuurrrruuuuuuussss eeeeeeelllllllssssssssswwwwwwooooorrrrrr (Need find dead like me. Too dangerous elsewhere)." She gets another thought. "Nnnnnnn uuuuuuunnnnnnnsssssstttttttaaaaaannnn mmmmmm (None understand me).

You want to convince her otherwise, but she seems to have made up her mind. Besides you can't help but agree. You doubt she could fit in like you and Morte can, strange as that may sound.

You smile sadly and reach out your hand.

"We appreciate your help Mary. I hope you find what you're looking for."

She smiles back and shakes your hand in return. "Yyyyyyyyyuuuuu ttttt. Mmmmmmmbbbbbbb ssssssseeeeeeeeeee gggggaaaaan uuuuuuuttttttt ttttthhhhhuuuuurrrrr (You too. Maybe see again out there)."

"I certainly hope so. Good luck Mary."

She gives one last nod and turns down the mountain towards Riverwood.

"Hey wait," Morte calls out. "How are you going to return the claw?"

"Sssssssnnnnnniiiiiikkkkk (Sneak)," she winks and takes off.

"That, at least I can understand," Morte says and turns to you. "Shall we? That magician prick is waiting for us."

"Not to mention that priest and dustman who wants my body."

Morte laughs. "Oh yeah. Forgot about that. Thanks for the reminder."

You take one look back but Mary has already disappeared down the hill. You do the same in the opposite direction, putting as much distance between yourself and the Barrows as possible.

"Hey chief, I just had a thought."

"Mmm?"

"If Mary returns the claw, we don't get that reward Lucan promised us. Do we?"

"Fuck."

 


	5. Whiterun

"Hey scarred man. Spare a gold coin for a fellow Nord?"

"I'm redguard. I think. And no, I don't have time."

"Hello again my child! Have you come to learn the ways of Talos? 2,000 coins for a circle?"

"Not now paí."

"Ah, come back to donate your body in pursuit of the true death?"

"No."

"Suck your sausage for 500.'

"No."

"Spare an old man a nibble of your flesh?"

"NO!"

At this point, you are literally running, your trusty skull friend in hand away from all the people pestering you for something as you run towards the Dragonsreach.

"Halt! Oh it's you," Irileth the bodyguard recognizes you. "Did you run your little errand?"

You hold up the dragonstone. She nods and grants you access to the reach.

The mage prick looks up as you walk in. You hold up the stone and hand it over to him.

"Well, well, well. Looks like the simple people proved not quite so simple after all, eh?"

"Yes, yes. You proved me wrong. Shall I bend on my knee and kiss your feet exalted skeleton? Oh apologies. It seems you have none."

"You arrogant holier-than-thou mages. Acting like you're born from a different crop than the rest of us. Why I bet, you came from the womb of some tavern wench bedding an Abishai!"

"Uh Morte-"

"You dare address me that way, you low-born cur? I know of you. Dying to get a woman into your bed, but no hands to please her?"

"Pah! I don't need hands to please a woman! I'm out there having women fawn all over me, while you sit in your studies, graying away!"

"Morte, maybe you should stop-"

Of course they don't stop. They go back and forth endlessly. The shouting becomes so loud that the jarl and his guards have to step in and break up the fighting. You hold the skull tight while the guards restrain the mage from using magic.

"Stop both of you," the Jarl yells. "You are grown men! I think," he looks at Morte. "And you are warriors in this fight against a powerful enemy. So please for the sake of Skyrim, show some restraint!"

The arguers look long and hard at each other. The mage then cracks a smile.

"You sure can pull off some insults. I guess when your mouth is all you've got, you've got to use it somehow."

"Hey, what little I have, I use with unmatched skill. You don't use yours bad either for a virgin."

The mage growls. "Watch it bone box. Now before we go any further, I believe you have something for me."

"Yeah sure, stuffy. We went to your haunted ruins and found your stone slab."

The mage takes the stone from you and looks it over.

"Well," the Jarl pressures. "Is it what we needed?"

The mage smiles. "Oh yes. My associate was right. I don't know how she knew about this. But I believe with time, this will prove a valuable discovery." He looks back at you. "You've done a fine job for a pair of corpses."

"A trio, more like it," you mutter.

"I'm sorry what?"

"He said, not a bad day, eh chief?" Morte talks over. We stole a rock from a haunted tomb, and I learned some new taunts!"

You're about to ask what he means by that when Irileth comes running in.

"Dragon spotted at the Western Watchtower! Assistance requested now!"

Everyone pauses and looks at each other, unsure how to respond.

"Lord! Dragon! Watchtower! Help!" Irileth spells out slowly. "Danger! Whiterun! Children! Women!"

"By the Lady's tits, she's right!" Morte leaps (floats into action). "Women and children in danger! A fancy ass tower under siege! A chance to become the adoration of millions of single ladies! Come on chief! We've got a dragon to make our bitch!"

…...

You run out to the gate, past the screams, and the praises to Talos and the true death. People push each other aside to ask the guards what could possibly be worth causing so much noise at this time of night or to run to the gate to get a better look.

Outside the walls, you see people gathered and gazing out towards the watchtower to the west. You notice a particularly large amount of dustmen and people in tattered rags.

"Take heart my brothers, for tormented souls are soon to be free of this shadow of life. The harbingers of the end times, the dragons themselves, are here to free us all. This town shall be saved at last. Or perhaps this majestic beast will meet his end and be saved? Either way, this is a good evening for us all."

"I know," one of the ragged men smirks. "Battles like this bring in a bounty of deaders. Hope you're ready for an especially large delivery dusty."

"Bah. Collectors," Morte spits. "Waiting for the battle to end so they can make off with the deaders. The lowest of the low."

Pushing that morbid conversation aside, you continue to follow the soldiers running out to the watchtower with Irileth in front.

"Please lady! Sweet Lady let us be in time."

Rushing out to the tower, you find soldiers already patrolling the area trained on the sky. You can make out the tension in them as they await what will be the death of many of them.

"Captain! Oh, thank the lady you're here- Draugr!" One of the soldiers points his bow at you and readies an arrow.

"It's ok! He's with us! And so is the skull," Irileth steps in front of you.

The soldier gives a look of "are you kidding me," but still lowers his bow and nods at the others to do the same.

"Where is it," Irileth asks. "Is it here?"

"It was flying this way a few minutes ago, but not right now."

"Oh yeah? Then what's that dumbass?" Morte nods his head to the west.

You all turn to see a great shadow flying your way. Even in the blackness of the night, you feel a memory tug at your brain.

You're back in Helgen. The great black dragon flying overhead, burning the city and you're running and hiding.

"I know my eyes tell me that is a dragon, a legend of old. Yet I do not know how such a thing is possible. I do know this. This creature knows why he is here. He knows what he seeks is here, and he knows much of pain."

At this point you really can't keep quiet anymore.

"What is it with you and knowing?"

"In knowing, one becomes strong."

You shudder, remembering the thalmor in orange and his talk of knowing and whatnot. You pull back before you get mad again. Yet you consider his words. In knowing one becomes strong. If you know an enemy, you surely should know a weakness.

"Incoming chief!" Your head snaps up as the beast unleashes a torrent of fire moving towards you at breakneck speed. You barely get out of the way. Some of the guards aren't so lucky.

"No!" Irileth screams. "Bastard!"

You finally get a good look at the creature. You "know" it's a dragon yet you can see it's not the one from Helgen. You make note of its speed. It's too fast to hit with arrows.

"We can't shoot it, it's too fast. Maybe if we could get it to land."

"Oh that's easy," Morte grins and then yells. "Hey! Lizard Breath! Your momma's so fat, Clotho from God of War 2 said damn!"

Irileth stares incredulously at him for a minute then turns to you. You shrug your shoulders, then look and find to your surprise that the dragon appears to have taken notice of the skull as well.

"Yeah, that's right ugly! She left you for a baatezu!"

Beyond all odds, the dragon apparently understands that and doesn't like it. It roars and flies down towards the "defenseless" skull.

"I don't know what you did skull, but you got it focused," Irileth said clearly impressed. "Everyone give it hell!"

The guards let loose a volley of arrows, striking the beast's hide while Irileth runs up and stabs it in the eye. It roars in pain shakes its head and tosses her several feet away. While it recovers from this, you rush forward and lodge a sword in the bastard's throat.

It looks at you finally clearly stunned. And from its throat you can hear it speak. "Dovahkiin?"

You pull away as it starts to burn, it's skin decomposing eventually leaving a skeleton. And from its corpse flows some strange energy sapping into you like a stream. You feel something coursing your veins and you let it all out as a mighty shout into the skies.

"Chief?"

You turn around and see Morte, Irileth and all the guards staring at you like a ghost.

"What's up Morte?"

"What's up is that you owned that bitch, sucked it dry like a whisk of ale, and then just shouted even more powerful than before. I've never seen anything like it. And this is coming from the talking skull."

"Of course he absorbed it," a guard says incredulously. "You are the one! The Dragonborn!"

"I don't know my name but I'm pretty sure it's not Dragonborn. Although if my parents really hated me, that might explain it."

"No. You are dragonborn! The legend tells of a warrior with the body of a mortal and the soul of a dragon!"

You and Morte proceed to roll around on the ground laughing your asses off (well your ass. Morte has misplaced his). This stops the instant your hear a great bellow ring out across the planes. It lasts only a few seconds but you can make out the words

"Dovakhiin."

Everyone stares at you again. You stare at the dragon's corpse, as if it's still alive.

"What the hell have I gotten myself into?"

…...

"Dragonborn," the jarl mutters more to himself than to you.

"That's what they claim. According to them, I have the soul of a dragon in the body of a mortal."

"Yes. Yes. I know the legend. I wouldn't have believed it in another time. But you killed that dragon. Killed it and…. consumed its soul?"

"That's what she said," Morte snickers.

Everyone gives him an annoyed look.

"Hey that was funny!"

"In any case," the jarl turns back to you. "You killed that dragon, absorbed some kind of power from it and now received summons from the greybeards themselves."

"Greybeards?"

Morte grimaces and explains.

"So-called masters of the voice. All that shouting garbage is what they do. Hardly worth the time of day if you ask me."

The jarl looks shocked. "How dare you speak so poorly of the masters of the voice? Their summoning is an honor. One that cannot be rejected!"

"You sure that was a summoning," you ask unconvinced.

"Of course. You heard them call out for you dragonborn. You have been summoned to the heights of high Hrothgar itself on the throat of the world. The tallest mountain in Tamriel. Of how I envy you!"

"Well I don't," Morte sniffs. "Those arrogant old bastards haven't lent a hand to anyone in centuries. Folks like that don't deserve an audience with someone like you if you ask me."

"We do not ask you skull. We ask the Dragonborn. For it is he who must make the climb. From Ivarstead East of here on the other side of the mountain. Also as a reward, I name you Thane, the highest honor I can bestow upon you. The guards will think twice before messing with you!"

You clasp your hand against your forehead. "This is a lot to take in."

"I'm sure it is. But fear not! High Hrothgar is such a peaceful place. So disconnected from the rest of the world. I'm sure you'll love it. Thank you again Dragonborn and good day! I have a city to run."

And with that you find yourself standing outside the Dragonsreach, trying to make sense of what the hell just happened.

"So, wanna talk?"

"Not really. I want to think. Contemplate what happens now."

"Well, as I recall we were talking about maybe catching a boat out of Solitude and Skyrim."

"That was the plan before all this. Dragonborn. Dragons. What could it all mean?"

"Means you need a good swig to think clearly. Come on. You've worked too hard. Time for a break. To the Drunken Huntsman. A little wine will help you think clearly."

"I'm pretty sure it does the opposite actually." But still you follow him down to the tavern.

Inside you find a warm hearth with cooking pots and several tables. You sit down at one and a man comes by.

"What can I get for you and your….. pet scarred man?"

"Pet? I'll have you know that I am Morte, king of calcium, survivor of Helgen! Oh and now, slayer of dragons!"

"Right. So a double shot for you and the dragon slayer?"

You nod in agreement then update your journal with everything that's happened today.

"Updated my journal," you say out loud to yourself. You hear what sounds like an argument and turn to see two women at another table arguing.

"I'm just saying. If evil is going to rule, isn't it better that it be orderly and tidy?" The woman arguing this point is a dark-skinned elf similar in appearance to Irileth.

"Yeh're grasping for straws girlie! Evil's evil. Laws are a blight on the road to freedom! If yeh're gonna make a living do it without rules. Yeh'll neer go wrong!"

This red-haired woman debating with the elf looks normal in every way. Morte however is looking like he's seen some exotic new animal.

"No staring Morte."

"I can't help it! Look at that tail!"

To your surprise, you do notice a tail poking out of the back of her pants. It swings back and forth as she debates whatever she's debating with the Dunmer.

"Oh baby. Please don't be a minor."

"Morte!"

"Hey lady, looks like you've got some attention." The elf grins.

The other woman does not as she turns around. You can see she looks rather young and (you can't help but notice) sports a fair bit of cleavage. That annoyance turns to shock as she sees the pair ogling her

"What're yeh looking at deaders? And how're yeh walking?"

"Oh we're deaders all right chit," Morte is still looking at her tail. "When I saw you my heart stopped."

"What the hell are yeh? And are yeh staring at my tail?"

"I can't help it! It's so enthralling! The way it swings back and forth. It's too much! Sovngarde, here I come!"

The women clearly do not know what to make of this. You take the opportunity to change the subject.

"We were just curious about your discussion on evil."

"Oh we were just debating the war and which side is right."

"You mean the war between the stormcloaks and the empire?"

"Ha!" The tailed woman barks out a loud laugh. "You call that a war? No dead man. We're talking about a real war. The war! The blood war!"

A chill runs up your spine. That name is familiar. It carries a feeling of dread. It is known to you. You shudder. Great now you're talking like that thalmor again.

Morte snorts. "A big mess. That's all there is to it."

"There's a lot more to it than that," the elf insists. "The biggest stalemate on the great Material Plane! Nothing else like it in history!"

"Who fights in this war," you ask genuinely curious .

"Well there's two fiends as we call em," the tailed woman speaks up. "The baatezu who believe that evil acts should be done in an orderly lawful fashion. While the Tanarri believe evil should be done with lil regard for order. Like she sez, biggest stalemate in history. Gone on for centuries. A damn miracle it ain't reached here yet."

"What do you mean?"

"The war is mostly fought in the parts of the world beyond the borders of Tamriel, the continent we're on. Good thing too. Both sides have infinite forces. They'd cover all of Tamriel within a year."

"But what exactly were you arguing about?"

"Which side is right," the elf steps back in. "I believe the baatzeu are onto something. Without strong laws to uphold evil ways, how can one commit evil at all?"

"Evil's evil," the tailed woman argues. "If yeh're gon be evil, least have a bit o fun doing it!"

"I love it when women fight over me," Morte sighs in bliss. Everyone gives a look that says otherwise.

"Look the point is I know a thing o two bout fiends. I've seen some o the blood war meself, and lemme tell yeh. This war here in Skyrim between the Stormcloaks and the empire's got nothing on it. It be a pale imitation. A speck next to it. If these poor sods only knew what were out there, they'd throw down them arms and never leave their fancy cities."

"I could listen to you for hours, you know," Morte murmers.

"Pike off yeh floating bone box! Don be sweet talking wit me!"

"What about you scarred man hmm" the elf inquires. "What's your story?"

"Wish I remembered. But I seem to have a case of amnesia.

"Oh don wanna be sharing with us? Too high and mighty?"

"No I really don't know."

"Fine, be that way. What yeh be doing in Skyrim?"

"Ain't it obvious my lady," Morte pipes up. "We're explorers traveling from town to town in search of the most beautiful women in this country. And I just found the most beautiful."

"Yeah well, wherever yeh go, stay away from Riften. That place be hell." The woman stands up her tail wagging. "Yeh watch yourself out there deader."

"And me?"

"You can go fight in the damned blood war for all I care!"

You laugh at Morte's embarrassment as the woman walks away towards the door only to run into a pair of redguard men.

"We're looking for a redguard woman," they ask her. "She's supposed to be here in town somewhere."

"I don be knowing a thing about some hammerfell wench, ye daft falmer! Now pike off! I don have time to pursue no redguard wench, lummoxes!" She pushes aside the shocked men and marches out the door.

"Say there's an idea chief. Get yourself a redguard woman. Have yourself a night out on the town, and maybe a little bit more eh?"

The redguard men walk over to your table presumably to ask the same thing. However the instant they see your face their eyes widen in terror.

"You! No! How can this be? You are gone! Broken! Dead!"

"I look that way. But I'm far from it. In fact apparently I'm Dragonborn or something."

"You? Dragonborn? How dare you honor yourself with such a title!" They draw their swords. "You will answer for your crimes. Right here and now."

"I doubt that." You turn and see a man in heavy armor carrying a heavy sword walks over to your defense. He seems familiar.

"Stay out of this mercykiller. This is redguard business."

"I'm a companion thank you very much. But if you want to be like that, need I remind of the ways of the mercykillers." As he says this, a loosely clad woman from a nearby table rises up sword in hand. She too seems familiar.

"Aela, baby! Show them who's boss."

She ignores the skull and stands next to the armored man.

"I see that Farkas has finally accepted our calling. Mercykillers uphold justice and punish those who break the law."

"Laws such as attacking a thane of Whiterun," Farkas suggested. "Who also happens to be a killer of dragons, and the Dragonborn?"

"You mean it? It's true? This criminal, this monster is the Dragonborn?"

"He's the talk of the town. Everyone knows what he did. He's a recognized hero of this town. And to attack him is an insult to justice."

"You speak of justice," the turbaned redguard grits his teeth. "Let me tell you of the man you defend-"

"No let me tell you," Aela points her blade at him. "Any who attack him betray justice. And for all who betray justice we are your fate."

Morte rises up. "The bottom line is berk: this guy you've got this raging hard on for? He saved my life and the lives of everyone in this town. He's not the easiest on the eyes but he's the best man I ever met, and a hero. You mess with him you mess with all of us."

At this moment, the guards who happen to be drinking stand up, placing their hands on the hilt. The dark elf looks around and realizing which way the wind is turning grabs the knife off her napkin.

Understanding their own precarious position, the redguards accept they aren't getting your head today, and look at you with a fury that could match the sun.

"You will pay. You and your friend in hiding here. I don't know where you're hiding her, but we will find her, and expose you both. We will make these people see the truth." His face is suddenly stricken with tears of anger. "How could you be the Dragonborn? You of all people? There is truly no justice in this world. You- you bastard." At this he can't go on and to your shock is shaking with anger and sadness. His partner wraps his arms around him to comfort him and shoots you the ugliest look of all time.

"There will be justice. For Hammerfell. For Deionarra." At this they turn and walk out of the tavern.

The whole tavern turns to you. You are stunned beyond words at what has just transpired and find yourself shaking with tears. You have just witnessed the most trying thing you can remember which is back to Helgen.

"Chief?"

You don't look at Morte but instead look down at the scars at your hand. You used to take some pride in these scars, assuming that you got them from defending people or something along that line. Now you look at them with horror.

"Chief? Chief, come on. You aren't letting those losers get to you, are you?"

"I- I don't know what to think. What did they mean? Who am I?"

"A hero chief! A hero! You saved the city!"

"But who was I? Who was I before all this? I'm redguard and they're redguard. What did I do to make them hate me so?"

"They probably mistook you for someone else."

"Who else looks like this? All the people in Tamriel and they pick me?"

"I don't know what some redguards have against you," Aela puts her hand on your shoulder. "But I know what I see. A true warrior. And until they can prove otherwise, I will not allow any to harm you while I'm around."

"I agree," Farkas steps in." Whatever you did in the past, you saved this town. We owe you a debt."

"Do you remember what Gerdur said Chief?"

"No."

"Oh right. She said if you can't remember your old life, start a new one. From what I can see, your old life wasn't very grand. And we need you here in Skyrim to warn about the dragons. Whoever you were before, you are now in this fight."

You consider their words, then wipe your eyes and rise to your feet. You can't let go the words the redguard man said. But if you're going to start over again fresh, you'll have to put that aside for the moment.

"Thank you. Thank you all. I'll try to keep it together."

"See that's the spirit!" You turn to see the dark elf woman giving you the thumbs up. "Approach this with logic. Just like I told that other woman! If you're going to do evil, do it orderly and tidy!"

"He's not trying to do evil fool," Farkas said. He's trying to uphold justice." He turns to you. "Aren't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean how are you going to start your new life Dragonborn? You have the world laid out before you. The choice is yours."

"Well I had originally thought about sailing out of here. But after today," You look at Morte sorrowfully. "Sorry Morte. But I don't think I have another choice. I need to see the greybeards."

Morte returns your sorrowful look but nods in understanding. "Well if you're all determined to go trotting off to meet with some self-important old hacks, you'll need someone to take notes while you sleep through their ramblings. Count me in."

"You're leaving now," Aela asks.

"I suppose. I need to answer their summons as soon as possible. From there I'll make my own way."

"Then before you get started, allow us to offer you our own help. Companionship."

You stare confused. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that it is nearly dawn and you need proper sleep before any great journey. The merykillers can provide you that and maybe even a place to call home."

Farkas looks annoyed. "The companions can provide you that. The merykillers would just kill."

"And I had such high hopes for you a minute there. But alas it was just another act I see," Aela retorts then turns back to you.

"The point is, whatever you call us , we would be honored to host the hero of Whiterun and Dragonborn."

"And his partner the skull?" Morte of course will not be left out.

The companions/mercykillers/whatever look at each other then sigh and nod.

"Well I suppose we could take a look. I mean it would be good to have allies."

"All too true," Aela gives little too wide smile. Farkas gives a weird look at her then smiles back at you.

"Well, I'm sure we can work something out. Please follow hero."

With all eyes on you, you and your partner the grinning, floating, talking, bloody, perverted skull follow the two companions/mercykillers/whatever out of the tavern and up towards their home of Jorrvaskr. For the first time since you woke up on that carriage bound for your execution, you feel a sense of purpose. You. The scarred stranger. The amnesiac The Killer of dragons. The Nameless One. The Dragonborn.

 


	6. Jorrvaskr

The first thing you notice upon entering Jorrvaskr is the smell. You can't pinpoint exactly what it it, but it's there tugging on your nostrils. The second thing you notice is the brawl between another damn dark elf and what looks like a woman with the lower half of a goat.

"Fuck his ass up Stonearm!"

"Go Athis! Burn her like Red Mountain!"

"Yeah giant goat lady!" Morte of course cannot help himself.

Not recognizing the new voice, the "giant goat lady" turns to see who spoke and is of course befuddled to see the little skull cheering her on and the dunmer (dark elf) takes this opportunity to land in a hit. He finds his hand stopped and the "giant goat lady" giving him a dirty look.

"Taking advantage of my sudden confusion? That is beneath the dignity of a companion."

With that she lets loose a huge punch in his chest causing him to kneel over raising his hands in defeat.

"All hail the "giant goat lady!" Morte cheers and whistles leading everyone to stare at the two of you with the same question on their minds. Who the hell are these berks?

"Aela," the "giant goat lady" speaks up. "Who the hell are these berks?"

"Njada. Companions. May I introduce the Dragonborn?"

Everyone immediately raises an eyebrow and looks at you.

"Huh?" Your attention has been focused on a rather fine-looking tart. You turn to see everyone sizing you up.

"I said, the Dragonborn walks among us. It's an honor."

"This is the Dragonborn," the "giant goat lady" looks disbelievingly at Aela. "Is this a joke?"

"No joke "giant goat lady". My friend here survived two dragon attacks and absorbed the latter's shout powers or whatever. This man here isn't even a companion and he's already better than all of you!"

"Morte," you warn softly. The "giant goat lady" is looking like she'd like to murder you. This is not helped by the others grinning at her anger.

"The skull is right." Farkas puts his head in his hands. "And I know how crazy that sounded. But it's true. This scarred man braved Bleak Falls Barrow and brought down the dragon that just now threatened us all. He's the definition of companion."

"Is it true," a young woman looked at you with wide eyes. "You're the Dragonbone?"

"Born. I'm Dragonborn."

"Show us," she suddenly says. "Show us the voice! The shout!"

Farkas pulls out a piece of parchment and holds it in front of you.

"I don't know much about shouts but from what I've seen, I believe this fits the description. I jolted it down on a recent trip."

You look it over. It appears to be familiar writing. You recall in the latest pages of your journal was writing similar to this. The writing appears to consist of three words if you can recall that seem to soak up into you like the knowledge from the dragon.

When the knowledge is imparted into you, you attempt it like you did before, but nothing happens.

"That's strange, It doesn't appear to work like last time."

"Maybe you need a little more juice or something chief. Just do the other shout you learned at the Barrows."

You shrug not really understanding but regardless you use the other shout which has the hilarious though unintentional side effect of knocking everyone in the room off their feet.

"What the hell?" The "giant goat lady" rises to her feet and steps forward for another eager brawl but Farkas steps in front, sparing you yet more scars.

"Calm down Njada. He was just demonstrating."

"So you really are the Dragonbone," the young woman says in awe.

"Dragonborn, Ria. You really must learn to pay better attention." An old man with a big white beard walks up followed by a guy who looks like he slept with a stone flattening his face. Aka, someone who is tired and does not want to put up with your shit.

"So you brought a legend to our door, brother." You see him looking at Farkas and notice the resemblance. He then turns to you looking you over and grimacing at your scars. "Well, I don't believe in legends. I believe in strength. And right now, you haven't shown any strength to me."

"He hasn't shown any strength," Morte asks astonishingly. "Have you seen his scars berk? I'd like to see you standing after taking those!"

Farkas' brother looks at the skull in disgust. "I have even less reason to listen to you. Your friend here does indeed have the scars, but you? What can you do?"

"Well as a matter of fact, I helped him brave Bleak Falls Barrow. I also fought that dragon alongside him with nothing but my mouth. And I guarantee I could take on your greatest warrior and come out standing."

You look at Morte with shock. You know from experience he can hold his own. But with these guys?

Farkas' brother smirks. "Care to settle that bet? Anyone who can go toe to toe with me is worthy of companion status."

"Oh, you're on ugly. Right here right now. You and me! Your fists versus my mouth!"

"Morte-"

"First the "Dragonborn"," Farkas' brother smirks. "Let's see if the man can match up to the legend." He moves to the center of the circle where the "giant goat lady" aka Njada fought the dark elf. "Fists only scarred man."

You give Morte an annoyed look for getting you into this. He doesn't seem to notice and simply smiles back. You begrudgingly step into the circle and raise your fists.

"Careful Vilkas," the old man with the badass beard says. "This man is a Thane. We don't want him dead."

You wonder how the hell he knows about that but have no time to ask as Vilkas swings a fist and socks you in the mouth.

You take a step back in surprise, yet find it doesn't seem to have much effect on you. It seems pain is an old friend to you.

You grin and return the favor, only for it to be blocked. He grasps your hand and twists it earning a gasp of pain from you.

"Looks like you got the wrong guy Farkas."

You take offense to that and hit him with the back of your head. He stumbles back cursing something about damn zombies. He throws another punch and you raise your hands to block it.

You keep trading blows for some time. As you do this, you start to find memories flooding back again.

You're in a room fighting a man with skin as tough as stone. The man is tough, but you get a feel for his movements. Alas, no matter what you do, you cannot make a dent in his hard skin.

"Your fists are not the only means of defense," he instructs. "Use anything to your advantage. If mere strength cannot."

"Says a man with stone skin," you grimace at your hands.

"If you cannot match their strength for example, turn it against them." He lets loose a fist at you. Contemplating on his words, you grab his arm and fling him to the ground. This has the unfortunate effect of leaving a dent in the floor.

"You really are made of stone Qui-Sai. But I am destined for greater things."

"Urrgghh." Coming back to the present, you find Vilkas lying on the ground groaning. It seems you were still acting while beating him up. Everyone is staring at you with shock except Morte and Aela who are grinning and Farkas who is looking at his brother with some amusement.

"So, I guess he's in?"

"Yes," the man with the badass beard said looking at Vilkas. "I guess he is."

"Wait what?" You suddenly come to your senses.

"That is why you came yes? To join the companions?"

"Don't you mean mercykillers?"

The old man sighs. "I see you've been listening to Aela."

"See," Farkas turns to her with a smirk. "Companions."

"I am simply being honest about our purpose in Skyrim."

"That's right!" The "giant goat lady" aka Njada speaks up. "We punish mercy and all its whores! We don't let them off the hook!"

The old man closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths before speaking again. "The offer is open. We've all heard of your exploits and this city owes much to you. Someone like you would be most welcome here."

"Hold on a second," Morte steps in. "Chief can I talk to you about this?"

"He doesn't have to discuss anything with you, whatever the hell you are." Njada spits. "He can make his own decisions without input from ¼ of a skeleton. Besides the offer isn't extended to you."

"Oh really?" Morte flashes a terrible grin. "How'd you like to test that? You and me chit! Right now! Show you who's your daddy!"

She grins too. "You're on."

You turn away. You can't watch the closest thing you have to a friend get demolished. You say closest thing because he comes along whether you like it or not.

But to your surprise and the surprise of everyone else, he comes through mostly unscathed. Without landing a single hit on Njada, he taunts her just like the dragon and gets her to charge after him with all her fury. And with obvious skill you somehow missed up to now, he dodges all her punches and laughs as she ends up hitting the wall and bruising her own hands. After about ten minutes running and dodging, she eventually can't go on.

"I have a lot of bark darling, but that don't mean I can't bite."

She looks up at him with grudging respect. "Yes you do skull. Yes you do."

"So that's two companions today, huh," Farkas grins.

"Well now that I'm up for consideration, may I have a word with the chief?"

"Chief," the dark elf frowns. "What kind of name is that?"

"It's not. It's just what he calls me," you say walking outside with Morte much to everyone's confusion.

"Chief I know you probably don't remember this. But I warned you about getting too in deep with factions with strong beliefs. Besides don't we have the Greybeards to go see?"

"Thought you were against that."

"I am. But if they can help you fight the dragons and realize your destiny or whatever so be it. I'm just a little worried about some of the folks in there. There's clearly some debate about who they are. Half want some restraint; the other half wants none."

"Looks more like 1/5 wants none. Hardly half."

"Even so, these guys are going to expect some things from you. I'm not sure you can afford that along with saving the world."

"What about you? They offered the position, even if they don't like you?"

He thinks for a second. "Like I said, it's got great fanservice. I haven't really stayed in one place for too long so I can't say I've really gotten too close to anyone for a while. I tried with Gerdur and you saw how that worked."

"Well maybe it's time to try that," you push back. "I've been rootless ever since I woke up on that carriage. I've been walking from place to place with no home to call my own. Maybe this is what I need. Roots."

"A place to call home," Morte nods in understanding. "All right chief, It's your call. I don't fully trust these buggers. But I trust you. If you need to widen your circle of trust I'll understand. Just one thing. The ones calling themselves mercykillers. Watch out. If you step out of line in any way, they'll put you down."

You consider his words and write them down in your journal. "Updated my journal."

"And can you please stop saying that? You're driving me barmy!"

"Don't say that. Got it. Let me just update my journal."

"No!"

You walk back in to expectant faces.

"Yeah so like uh. We kind of sort of absolutely chose to kind of sort of choose to engage and fraternize and engage in some sort of activities with you so yeah."

Morte quickly intervenes amidst their confusion. "We'll take the job. But first we've gotta go see the Greybeards."

The bearded man nods in understanding. The reaction seems to vary amongst the rest. Ria appears overjoyed. Farkas nods his head in understanding while his brother and the half goat Njada seem to frown. It's the reaction of Aela and a bald man with a blind eye that catches your attention. You can't place their facial expressions but it makes you nervous.

"If the members of the circle will follow me outside, we will conduct the rite of passage for these two gentlemen."

"Walking corpses more like it," Njada grumbles. You ignore it and head out back. She got her ass kicked by a skull. Let her sulk.

Out back the circle members stand: Farkas and his brother, Aela and the bald man with a blind eye, and the old man with the badass beard at front.

"Brothers and sisters welcome," he raises his arms in greeting. He then goes on to say some fancy words about induction which you honestly don't feel like repeating. Although you get some nice things said about you by Farkas and Aela. After all is said and done, the old man (whose name you still don't know embarrassingly) steps forward to congratulate you.

"Well gentlemen, you're in the fold now. I trust you won't disappoint. Most would require some further proof of skill. But after all that has happened today, I think you two have proven a unique exception. I know that your path for the moment takes you the top of High Hrothgar itself. And for that I envy you. I trust that once your path is done, you will return home to drink besides your family."

It might not seem like much to someone else. But to you it means quite a bit. The word family touches you deep inside. For the first time that you can remember, you have a home, somewhere to return to. A damn place to sleep if nothing else!

"Thanks Kodlak we appreciate it," Morte obliges.

Leader's name is Kodlak. Best you remember that. "Updated my journal."

Morte looks at you annoyed.

"Excuse me, uh master?"

"Please my friend, I am no one's master. My title is Harbinger. Each shield-brother is his own man, each shield-sister her own woman."

"Oh so we don't have to take orders eh," Morte smiles. "Maybe I will like it here."

"You don't. But it is wise to listen from more experienced warriors. Any that get to be old like me or Skjor is either fearsome or a coward."

"Wonder which you are," you mutter to Morte.

"Watch it dead man."

"But anyway mas- I mean Kodlak. Are you the companions or the mercykillers? There seems to be some debate over that?"

Kodlak sighs wearily.

"I see you've heard Aela and Farkas argue. The mercykillers are what we used to be. Under the rule of the infamous Vhailor, the mercykillers upheld justice all across Skyrim. Their definition of justice however seemed unclear at times as was their definition of who broke it. Vhailor was an extremist who believed that anyone who crossed any line no matter how small deserved no mercy or compassion. Only the swift swing of an executioner's axe. He applied this to all he met, including members of his own faction."

"So everyone was treading a fine line between innocence and death. It must have been a terrifying time."

"Indeed. Under Vhailor hundreds of people were executed. A great deal of criminals to be sure. But many of them were denied the chance for redemption. Their boundaries were too thin and too inflexible."

"So what happened? Mutiny?"

"More or less. Vhailor himself was never properly ousted. It's said he went on a mission one day and never returned. After that many leaders came and were themselves struck down, being declared too corrupt or not dedicated enough to justice. Eventually Ysgrammor, the only true leader the companions have ever had stepped in and declared that this madness must stop."

"And now what you run around doing whatever your little hearts desire?"

"Morte!"

"That is quaint skull. We go where we are needed." You turn to see Farkas walking out. "It's getting late and you've got a long road ahead of you tomorrow. Tilma our maiden will show you to your quarters. You can take the time to meet the others before you take off."

"Ah Fakras," Kodlak looks optimistic. "I trust you were successful."

"Yes. A Fragment of Wuuthrad right here."

You follow Aela back inside. Morte immediately goes chasing after Ria of course while Aela turns back to you.

"When everyone goes to sleep, meet me outside. I have a gift for your journey."

"Ok, but I don't think Morte will like to get out of bed that late."

"Not him. Just you. Also, bring your gear." And with that she walks away.

"Chief! Chief!" Morte calls you over. "This girl here Ria. She was the newest member right up until we showed up!"

"That's right. Everyone talked down to me as the youngster in the group. Until you showed up! It should be very interesting to do the same to you."

"Don't get too excited chit. We may be the newest but I bet we're still older. Plus we're leaving tomorrow and may not return for some time."

"Oh that truly is a tragedy! I had so enjoyed the experience of condensation from others, and was eager for the experience of returning the favor!"

You look at Morte quizzically.

"Isn't she great," he winks.

"I came out here to gain new experience. The Festhall had done all it could for me and I desired new experiences to expand my senses!"

"Festhall?"

"Oh you're a sensate," Morte says understanding right away.

"That's right!" She then goes on to say what you think is some kind of motto. "Know the universe by experiencing it fully. The senses form the path to truth, for the multiverse doesn't exist beyond what can be sensed."

"Oh spare us that nonsense whelp!" Njada the half goat lady walks by. "Leave that garbage back where it belongs!"

"Njada's a bit rough," Ria insists. "But she's good at heart. She's just had a rough life."

"Bet she's also sore from having her ass kicked by a skull," Morte smirks. "What's with the goat legs?"

"She's a Bariaur. They live rough-and-tumble lives so that might have something else to do with it."

"That's what I like about her," the dark elf from before (Athis was it) steps forward.

"Then why were you fighting?"

"That's just us letting off some anger. Dunmer and Bariaur have been refugees for a long time. Persecuted and hated for centuries. We're like kin."

"Persecuted and hated? What's your story?"

"Well I don't know much about the Bariaur, but we Dunmer hail from from the land of Morrowind to the northeast. It was our home until the volcano Red Mountain erupted. Since then many of us have fled to Skyrim where we are hated just for being who we are. A word of warning redguard. If you plan to stay in Skyrim a long time, the Nords don't look kindly on those different from them."

"Morrowind. That's part of Tamriel still?"

"Yes. But between the eruption of the Red Mountain and our position in the northeast, it can be a difficult place to live."

"What's wrong with its position?"

"Beyond the realm of Tamriel lies the infinite Blood War. Just beyond our shores, Baatezu are engaged with Tanarri in a bloody free-for-all. Living with something that massive just beyond your borders its- It's nerve-racking. Not knowing when some of that evil is going to spill over."

"Sounds lovely chief. Maybe we should go there instead. Sounds like the place for us."

You get the feeling this might prove useful, and decide to record it. "Updated my journal."

"Chief! Stop that!"

"Dispute and anger! Exactly what the companions exhibit on a regular basis! Oh I am so thrilled I left the Festhall!"

"I'll give you guys that much," a Nord man walks in. "You sure can drink and throw parties! You know how many drinks and parties we get among the dustmen? Noooooooooonnnnnnnnneeeeeee! Thhhhhppppttttthhh!"

"You were a dustie," Morte asks surprised. "I knew you smelled like a corpse."

"Says the corpse! This smell is booze! Proper Skyrim ale! Oh, don't cling to such passions, they told me! It'll keep you from the true death! Well fuck that I say! I'm here and I'm drinking my way out of this shadow of life! Fuck the lady and her giant ass tits!"

"Quiet Torvar!" An elderly man not Kodlak tries to shush him. "Don't take her name in vain like that!"

"What ya mean the Lady of Pain," he starts to slur. "Issssss talkin bout the Lady o Pain such a bad thing? Why would the Lady of Pain min us talkin bout her, eh? I'm a free man! I'll do what I want!"

By that logic what he wants to do is apparently pass out on the ground. The old man slings his arm over his shoulders.

"I think this one needs his rest. As do the rest of you. We need to be in our best condition for when Jarl Ulfric the true high king takes his rightful throne. Long live Ulfric Stromcloak! The true high king!"

Morte rolls his eyes as the man carries the drunk away. "Ulfric fever here too? Where does everyone's love for him come from? He didn't taste that good."

Ria's eyes widen in excitement. "You tasted Ulfric Stromcloak? Oh I am so envious! I've yet to experience my companion's taste! That is a wonderful idea! Thank you!"

"Oh great," Athis steps back. "Now you've given her a taste for our flesh. Thanks lot corpses."

You decide to intervene. "Well, I think it's time to get to bed. Maybe we'll see you in the morning."

"Oh I certainly hope so! Please return when you can. I'm sure you'll have all sorts of experiences on your way up to High Hrothgar! Make sure to recount how your senses are tested every day and learn from experience."

"Yeah we'll be sure to do that chit. For now we'll settle for the experience of peaceful sleep."

"We can help you. Let us show you to your bed."

You turn and find yourself face to face with some kind of…. cube with wings and an organic green face. It stares at you with unblinking eyes patiently waiting.

"A modron," Morte says disbelievingly. "You have a modron as a companion?"

"We do not function as a member of the faction known as the companions, formerly known as the mercykillers. We are here to assist and observe for any potential weaknesses should the need arise to combat."

You look at the actual companions, hoping they can justify.

"Tilma is something of a maid you could say. She's been here since the founding of Jorrvaskr, tending to the companions. She acts weird, but she really cares."

"Cares? CARES?" Morte can't believe what he's hearing. "This is a modron. A machine. They care about law and order. Not people. If you've got one here, it's probably looking to do just that."

"There is no she or it. There is only us," the cube intervenes. "We will continue to examine this building and the companions until new orders are given."

"Given by who," you ask. But the cube is already walking downstairs. You resign, give a wave to the companions and follow it/she/them downstairs.

You're shown to your bed which is among the rest of the crew not in the circle. Here that smell you noticed earlier is especially strong here. You assume it's just from the companions themselves. You're grateful for it at the moment because it keeps you awake long enough for the rest to go to sleep.

When you're certain the last has shut their eyes, you sneak out of bed, grab your gear and head outside. You have to use a little stealth to get by the modron maid.

Outside you see Aela head through a secret door at the base of the rock face next to the building. Behind her is Skjor, the bald man with the blind eye. He looks over to see you, beckons you over and heads through.

Inside, you suck in your breath. In the center of the room lies a large stone vase. Next to it stands skjor and… a giant rat.

"I'm sure you have questions new blood. Let me fist assure you that you have nothing to fear. What you see before is not a monster, but your shield-sister Aela."

"How…. is that possible?"

"It is a gift. A gift given to all those in the circle. We give this to you now in secret because Kodlak sees it as a curse. To which I ask, how can something that gives this kind of prowess be a curse?"

"Well… uh….. it doesn't do much for one's features."

"Forget appearances new blood. This is about power! The power to slay mercy and all its whores."

He walks over to the rat and slits its- her wrist. A deluge of blood purs into the vase. Skjor scratches her ears then turns to you.

"To reach the heights of the mercykillers, you must join with us in the shared blood of the rat. Are you prepared to join your spirit with the beast world friend? Are you prepared to accept the gift to conquer all enemies of justice, including the dragons?"

You bite your lip. That last part certainly appeals to you. Anything that will make your fight easier against fire breathing monstrosities is something you can't afford to pass up on. Still you're not all that fond of rats, even if you can't recall the last time you saw one.

"I can see your hesitation. That is understandable. Understand though, this is the only way into the main circle. The only way to truly be a member of the family.

If that's a form of manipulation, it's a damn good one. You do want a family whether or not you'll admit it out loud. Somewhere to come home; some kind of roots; people who won't try to kill you just because of your scars might make your time here in Skyrim livable. Not really thinking, you find yourself sipping form the bowl of blood.

…

You're free. Your senses are alive. Your newly acquired body is rippling with power. You sniff the air. You smell blood. You run out into the streets, chasing the helpless fleeing citizens, gnawing their bones. The guards rush you with their feeble weapons of steel. Let them come! Let them die! With your agility and speed, you outrun them easily. One by one, they fall before your grandeur. Your blood ripples with ecstacy. You've never felt so alive! It's like you live for this! Deep down in the darkest recesses of your animal mind, you know you have done this before. Power, pleasure, carnage. It's all there is to life! You're almost to the gates. The fleeing dustmen in their pitiful robes. Once so eager for the true death. Now faced with it, they can only beg for life. The hypocrites! Running to your heart's content, you ignore the blacksmith. Out of the corner of your eye, you see her staring through you again, as if she knows who you are.

"You stink rat boy! You inherit that from your mother?"

You turn to see who so foolishly mocks your beauty. Your animal perfection. A skull. A pitiful little skull. How dare it address you so boldly? With so little respect? You rush forward to prove it wrong. Its eyes widen with horror, realizing too late its mistake. Too late to change its fate as you rush forward to sink your fangs into its brains!

And then just as you proceed to rip it apart, you lose consciousness. No. You lose yourself.

…

"Rise and shine brother. Your gift is not yet over. You've got work to do."

You wake up on the edge of a forest, the night is starting to fade. But even though the sun is not yet up, you can male out the face of Aela as she stands over you beaming.

"That….. that….. wasn't a dream."

"No. It wasn't. That is the gift of the merykillers. Those of us in the circle anyway. Kodlak would spare you such a gift, calling it a curse. But you are the Dragonborn. And one with as glorious a destiny as you cannot be denied the glory of the hunt."

"I… I killed people. Guards. Dustmen….. Morte."

"The skull is alive. Have no fear," her smile suggests she may be disappointed. "You passed out at the last moment. We knocked him unconscious from behind then got you out before the guards could catch up."

"And where are we now?"

"Gallows rock. On the other side of the mountain. As rats, Skjor and I carried you throughout the day, sparing you considerable walking time. But also giving you the second half of your gift."

"The second half. What do you mean?"

"There in Gallows Rock, there lies a band of rat hunters. The Silver Hand. They hunt us for using our gift as we are meant to. As a full fledged mercykiller and Dragonborn, I figure you deserved a chance to truly test your new powers before you begin your journey."

"By killing them?"

"Purging them! Purging those who uphold injustice. Injustice such as denying those with power the right to use it! Now come! The night calls!"

Confused and unsure where to go, you follow her up the hill to the great fortress at the top. Heading through the gates you find the outside has already been mostly dealt with. Bodies of those you presume are the Silver Hand lie about. Though it is dark, their armor looks familiar.

"No time to honor the dead little brother," Aela calls out merrily. "Inside, where more wait to slaughter!"

You have to say this woman's definition of justice is starting to sound pretty different from what you would call justice. But tired, confused and acting on instinct, you follow her inside.

Inside, the carnage is greater still. Bodies lie strung about on the ground. In the interior lighting, you suddenly make out their armor.

"Merykiller armor? These are mercykillers!?"

"No," Aela says angrily and stubbornly. "They carry the armor of our ancestor's past. But they do not follow the ways of justice. They kill those who do not deserve the axe. Those like us."

That actually sounds a lot like what a mercykiller would do you think. But you don't have the strength to argue. You follow her in, standing over the corpses.

You encounter a few stragglers, but they're hardly the fearsome warriors you've been lead to believe. The scariest thing though, is rather than disgust and horror as you tear through the stragglers, you feel excitement and bloodlust. Is this what a normal person feels under such circumstances?

"In here." Aela suddenly shocks you out of your thoughts and points to the door ahead. Inside you can hear fighting and yelling. Aela listens hard until her eyes widen in surprise and she rushes in yelling.

"Skjor, no!"

You follow her into the room to find Aela fighting furiously against a horde of well-trained and armored mercykillers/ silver hands. Aela is strong, but she's overwhelmed by them and is quickly forced down.

A rather large mercykiller wields a freakishly large axe and prepares to mow it through her neck. No doubt preparing to uphold "justice".

"The gift brother! Use the gift!"

With the mercykillers/ silver hands all converging on you, you accept that the only way you're getting out is as a rat. You look to Aela for guidance.

"Reach inside yourself! Feel the blood! Will yourself to become what you were meant to be!"

You do that somehow and feel the change coming on again. Your senses become superhuman once more and you lunge forward, tearing into your opponents, slashing their throats, eating their innards. Infecting them. Ripping them apart. The bloodlust is overpowering, helping you maintain your form.

Just as you're enjoying it, it ends. Throughout all the carnage, your ears pick up sorrow and anguish. Aela holds Skjor's lifeless body, howling almost like a wolf which is rather strange for a rat.

"They'll pay! They'll all pay! Justice will come raining down on them from the heavens, drowning them in their own blood!" She looks at you fiercely, fire in her eyes. "I must find their hidden halls. Learn where to strike them down. But you must answer the Greybeards, grow more powerful. So that when we meet again on the steps of their home, nothing shall make us falter! Go now my brother! Run to High Hrothgar, and bring justice to mercy and all her whores! No mercy!"

Something about that seems to make you sprint off like a horse. No real idea about where you're going. Just the feeling of freedom as you rush down south (you think). You run into others as you flee wherever the hell you're going. As with the townsfolk, you offer only death for them. You continue to leave a trail of blood behind you like it's the most beautiful thing in the world.

Eventually you come to a rather bizarre sight. Even in your fevered mind, you recognize the beast in front of you as a dragon. But this is a hurt dragon. Its wings have been torn to shreds and it lies bleeding on the ground.

"Dovakhiin. I know that smell. It was the smell of the first Dovakhiin." It looks at you disappointed. "I know what you did to Mirmulnir. To think he could be defeated by one who takes the form of a rat."

He sighs and looks to the sky. "I would not fall so easily. But as you can see, I have been betrayed. Alduin, curse him. I only asked him what can change the nature of a man. That question has plagued us for centuries. For him to react so violently towards me. One of his own brothers! And they call him the Transcendent One! He has not transcended anything! Perhaps Paarthurnax was right."

He looks to talk again, but your bloodlust takes over. Still wielding the weapon you used to slay his brother, along with your heightened agility and senses, you tear into him. The once proud and mighty creature, bled to death by a rat. Such a humiliating end!

As the light leaves his eyes, and his power and knowledge flow into you, you let out a howl of rejoice. You expect it to sound like a wolf. Instead it comes out as an ear-piercing shreak.

You continue on, fueled by your rage and hate. You find a cave within which are located more bandits. More vermin to kill. Aela's last words ring in your ears. No mercy! You show none.

Running through the cave, you root them out in every crack and crevice. None survive. But alas all good things must come to an end. Running through the massive caverns three times over, you eventually tire yourself out, and fall asleep in a pool of blood, Aela's words ringing in your ears.

No mercy! No mercy! No mercy!

 


	7. Angarvunde

You twitch as you feel something rough fall onto your chest. You squirm from the warm saliva you feel on it. You also smell the strong scent of blood. Yet it's not enough to wake your exhausted body up from its slumber.

"Rise and shine, you bloodthirsty bastard."

That makes you at the very least open your eyes. When you see who it is, you try to get up but you can't. You're too damn tired.

"You forgot your journal. Read it."

"What is this? Where am I? What are you? A talking skull?"

"I said READ. THE. JOURNAL."

You pick up the journal and wince from the saliva. That's when you realize where the stench of blood is coming from.

"WHERE DID ALL THESE BODIES COME FROM!?"

"Read!"

Against all common sense, you read it. You only mean to read the so-called important facts at the beginning with information like Morte=skull=best friend, Dragonborn=you=member of companions. However as you delve deeper in, you find a truly bizarre tale involving offering donations for your corpse, the walking dead, and even dragons. It all ends with the moment where you join the companions and explain in some detail the different bizarre members. You reread the same thing twice, but there's no mention of you apparently going insane and slaughtering everyone in a cave.

"Morte, did I kill these guys?"

"Not just these guys. People along the road. Some deserved it, others didn't. Even apparently a dragon!"

"A dragon? By myself?"

"I don't know if as yourself. More like as a monster."

A monster?" You suddenly notice the look of intense worry and fright in his eyes. He's watching you warily like he's expecting you to lash out.

"What do you remember from last night?"

You think very hard. Nothing.

"You know, I was attacked about three days ago back in Whiterun. The night I last saw you."

"It's been that long?" You're alarmed. How much happened during that time? "Who attacked you?"

"A monster. A giant rat. With your clothes and weapons."

You pause to let that sink in.

"Me?"

"You went on a rampage throughout town, attacking guards and strangely enough dustmen. Can't really fault you for that second part," he smirks for a second before resuming his serious expression.

"You attacked me too, knocked me to the ground. Almost had me, then you sort of started to sway and fell over. Before I could do anything else, someone knocked me out from behind."

"Aela," you say knowingly. He nods in agreement.

"When I woke up, I rushed back to the companions. We found her and that bald member from the circle had taken off. Kodlak told me about the rat curse. I got mad at him for leaving that bit out and he said Aela and the bald guy had been clamoring for some time now to attack the fortress of "actual mercykillers." Kind of ironic. Anyway they gave me money for a horse, and I chased after those psycho vermin."

"You rode a horse," you find yourself smiling. "How'd you manage to hold the reigns?"

"I've got my talents. But by the time I reached the tower, I could tell you'd already been there. From there, I followed the trail of bodies to here."

You wrap your arms around your legs and pull them in close. All those people, killed by your hand. And apparently a dragon too! You're speechless.

"We can't go back. You know that right?"

You look up. He looks as serious as you can ever recall him looking. Which to be fair is not much.

"You mean to the companions?"

He nods.

"I knew there was something fishy about that place the instant we set in, and not just because of the smell. But wererats! Lycanthropy! Those people are dangerous chief. I mean, look what they had you do!"

You try not to. Not because the sight of bodies strewn about makes you queasy, but because it makes you excited. It's probably best not to mention that to Morte.

"I don't think most companions are like Aela, Morte."

"They appear that way. But still. Keeping something like that a secret! If Vhailor were still alive, he'd have them executed without hesitation. We can't take them just by face value."

You think on his words. They do have some logic. Even if deep down you still want to have a roof over your head.

"You were against it weren't you? Did you warn me against it?"

"Yeah. But even I didn't know about this. If I had, I would've told us to run like rabbits and never look back."

"We'll probably have to return to Whiterun at some point you know."

Morte pauses. "No doubt. But until then, let's keep as much distance between us and that town as possible."

"You pause to reminisce what you can remember from your short time amongst the companions. "Poor Ria. She was so eager to meet a new addition."

"She'll have to experience condensation from two corpses elsewhere. We can't risk getting caught up with giant rats of all things. No woman would sleep with a skull who smelled of rat piss!"

"Pretty sure no woman would sleep with a skull period."

He gives a friendly smirk, but then turns serious.

"I suppose you don't remember how to take the form, do you?"

"No I can't recall. Hopefully it doesn't come with the moon or something."

"Kodlak says its controllable. But he also said it comes with some downsides."

He takes a deep breath. Then continues talking. "He said it comes with these urges to transform at times. This kind of bloodlust. You have to resist that no matter what."

You fear you've already felt that. Yet you nod that you understand and let him go on.

"Another thing and this is going to wear even worse on you. No more restful sleep. That beast blood in you is always awake, always pulsing, never giving you true rest."

You think you already know that bit. You tossed and turned throughout the night, a pounding noise in your head. It wouldn't let you sleep no matter what.

"You've gotta keep both in check chief. I've trusted you this far, and I'm positive all… this was the rat," he gestures around. "But I've got to worry about my own skin, and I can't do that if I have to look over my own back all the time."

"Do you not trust me anymore?"

He looks surprised then hurt at that question.

"Nah I don't distrust you. I just…" he trails off. "I just don't want you to carry any more burdens than you have to. I mean your memory loss and this dragon nonsense is enough to carry around without a giant rat thrown into the mix!"

"The point is," he continues. "This is a side of you we can't afford to deal with. I don't want to see it, and neither do you. You get my drift?"

"Yeah. I do Morte. I do." You look around the cavern at the massacre. Your massacre. "Should we do something for them?"

"I doubt they care, chief. Right now, what we need to do is put some distance between us and this place before someone follows the trail of bodies. Come on. Greybeards are waiting."

You take one last look around at the cave. The tomb. If this is an indication of things to come, you aren't looking forward to what comes next. You follow Morte out. You can't pinpoint it, but you think he's got a wary eye on you.

…

"I can't afford to be so neat and tidy. Maybe if I had more free time like you…"

"I mine just as much as you, Orc! And I still manage to keep my side of the room tidy! I'm a better miner than you in every way!"

"Oh really? Maybe you'd like to settle that with a bet?"

You groan, hearing the miners arguing like an old married couple. Reminds you too much of Morte. At least before that whole rat rampage thing.

It's been two days since you reunited in that cave. You galloped at breakneck speed all the first day to clear the area before anyone could connect you to the trail of bodies. You did get a bit of a respite in the Clearspring Tarn pool. It was quite an awkward moment. The two of you bathed on opposite sides, Morte keeping a hesitant eye on you like he expected you to lash out at any minute. You tried to look out over the horizon. Because your attention was fixed, you were of course totally surprised by the duo of frost spiders crawling up to suck out your liquids. This led to a rather awkward battle in which you had to jump out of the water ass naked and help Morte fend off the disgusting arachnids.

When it was all over, you looked at Morte, you in the nude except for cobwebs and tried to lighten the mood with an embarrassing joke you'd rather not repeat. He nodded, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere.

You had to walk for another thirty minutes as the horse had taken off. All the while Morte complained about that damn horse. You meanwhile were on the lookout for any more giant spiders and wondering what he was complaining about. It's not like he has to walk is it? No legs!

You finally reached the little mining settlement of Shor's stone. You got to camp out on the property of a female Nord miner while you tried to get your bearings. Apparently in your haste to escape the cave, you had gone the exact opposite direction and were now some ways southwest of where you were meant to go.

Hence why you now find yourself in a dingy bar, surrounded on all sides by miserable miners who argue and moan about how awful it is to spend their days hauling ore up for whatever purpose they do it. You look to Morte for some kind of snarky response, but he's still lost in thought, trying to sip wine without hands.

"You seem troubled scarred man"

You look up at the woman next to you and recoil at her brown dusty robes and smell of corpses.

"Go away dusty," Morte mumbles into his drink.

Dustman (dustwoman). Right. You forgot to update what they look like.

"It's pitiful, isn't it? The life these people lead. It's a bittersweet symphony. Trying to make ends meet, you're a slave to money then you die."

"They could have it worse," you show off the scars on your arm.

"Indeed. You have clearly suffered much." The woman looks in closer. "These scars look very strange indeed. I have not seen their kind before."

"What do you mean their kind," Morte grumbles. "A scar's a scar."

"Yes, but scars have origins. One who studies the dead for a living becomes familiar with all types of injuries. And so far as I can tell, these injuries upon your flesh were made by no man-made weapon."

"Really? What do you think these come from?"

She looks in depth and her eyes widen in surprise.

"I believe some of these scars came from magical damage. Although what kind of magic, I can't say. I'm no magician."

"Magic?" That gets you thinking. Maybe this death worshipper can offer you something after all. "Is there somewhere I could figure out what kind of magic?"

"Oh everyone knows that."

"Except me apparently."

"Ok well everyone except you knows that the place to study magic is the college of Winterhold."

Morte spits out his drink all over the table. He looks to you showing the first sign of expression all day. The expression being worry.

"Winterhold? No way chief. That's a big no no. No more clubs."

"The college of Winterhold is hardly a club," the dusty speaks up. "They are a college that dabbles in the study and application of magic. I personally find it a noble goal, though a pointless one. Personally, I think their time would be better spent studying the mysteries of the true death but-"

"Yeah yeah. That's great dustie. Look chief. I think another group of secretive psychopaths is the last thing we need."

"The way I understand it, it was only two of the companions that were into the whole rat thing."

"Rats? Companions? The companions have rats in their circle?"

"Actually yes." Then realizing some secrets are best kept secret, you quickly rethink your words. "I'm joking. Of course, there are no rats. "

"I warned you about joining factions. I only let you join the companions because of their reputation and because I didn't know about the rats. But the college? The college has a well-established bad rep."

"So there are rats in the companions?"

"Bug off dustie! Go preach the true death elsewhere!"

Giving an annoyed look to the skull, she does indeed bug off to go pester the two arguing miners. "Have you ever heard of the true death?"

"Look the point is, I didn't know the truth about the companions until after we joined them, but I know the bad side of the college. Everyone does. Oh except you."

"Is it because of magic? I've seen you shout. And doesn't it help you float?"

There's a difference between shouting and what they do in Winterhell. Berks from that place dropped half the city into the ocean, and then another burnt the rest to the ground! Magic. It does things to you. Hell, you heard that dustie. She thinks magic might have you given you your complexion."

"First of all you don't trust dusties. Second, my complexion is quite dashing, thank you!"

"Ok, fine whatever. But if you play badly with magic, it'll burn you. Even more than that chit claims it has."

"Plus," he has a second thought. "It's a college. A school! You ever been to school? Exams! Schedules! Teachers! Roommates!" He pauses. "Actually, that last one might not be so bad."

"All right. So you don't want to follow someone else's rules. I get that. Would they be able to detect any traces of magic? On say, a scar?"

He thinks. Then sighs. "I suppose if you're so eager to piece together some kind of biography, it's a start. But please chief. No more gangs or mottos or stuff like that. Just you and me ok?"

"Well I'm probably going to forget but I guarantee I won't get too in deep. Although a little knowledge might not hurt."

Morte shakes his head. "You sure get a hard on from pain. In which case I'm sure you'll love the Greybeards. And by the way chief, knowledge does hurt. What the companions taught you: that hurt you and others."

Your business concluded he downs the rest of his drink and floats out of the bar to your camp. You sip the rest of your mead or whatever it is and update your journal with the information you've discussed with your skull buddy. After a few hours of trying and failing to drink yourself to sleep, you wander out and stumble off into the woods for a good piss.

You fumble about in the dark and trip over a root. Pulling yourself back up, you're in for the shock of your life as you find yourself face-to-face with a corpse.

Draugr, you recall from the journal. You jump up to your feet and draw your mace. The draugr, a female you notice, raises her hands in defense.

"Dddddddddddduuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnn ffffffffrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeennnnnnn."

You pause. Those words mean something to you. You know them.

"Say that again."

"Dddddddddddduuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnn ffffffffrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeennnnnnn (Don't friend)."

Through all the memories of the last few days, one stands out.

"Stale Mary." She smiles and nods.

Considering you don't have many friends, you show what few you have with kindness. You reach forward and wrap your arms around her in what is a rather awkward yet welcome hug.

You hold that for a bit, scarred flesh against dead flesh then you part, you are feeling fuzzily happy for the first time in days.

You delve into your memories of your time with this woman. "Still looking for the dead like you?"

She nods again, this time sadly.

"Aaaaaaaaannnnnnnngggggggggguuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrvvvvvvvvaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnn. Wwwwwwwwwwwweeeeeeeeellllllllll llllllllllloooooooooookkkkkkkkkk tttttttttttthhhhhhhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrr (Angarva-. Ok not sure about that one. Will look there)."

She senses your confusion and points on your map to the ruins of Angarvunde, southwest of your position. You start to get ideas. It's on your way to Ivarstead and it only costs you an extra day.

"Mary, how would you like some company?"

…

You set out the next day with Mary hiding her face under a cloak. She wasn't going to travel at day, but you convinced her as long as she stays with you, she'll be fine.

The trip is awkward to say the least. You thought having a lady along would get Morte to come out of his shell swinging, but he continues to remain mostly aloof. He speaks up a few times to interject when he thinks you're being unfair to his character, but otherwise is quiet the next day and a half.

You and Mary by contrast are quite vocal. You hear her talk about being caught returning the golden claw to Riverwood and being chased out of town down soutb. She took the path through Helgen assuming no one would go there after the dragon. As she recounts the rotting ruin that the town has become, you get that twinge of excitement again. You don't know if that's the rat blood talking or something else, but you really ought to get that looked at.

"Updated my journal."

"Damn it chief!"

Passing through Helgen, she was again chased: This time by a dragon! She describes as best she can with her slurred speech the terror and awe at running from the beast as it called down to her in its own bizarre tongue. She escaped from that, only to end up running from Stormcloaks, forced to hide out in Shor's Stone and snatch food whilst the miners worked. The fact that this is apparently a regular occurrence makes it clear why she is so desperate for rumor of dead like her to be true.

Setting up camp, you finally get to recount your own view. Before you begin though, you start by shouting out a breath of fire which starts the campfire.

"Did you just shout out fire," Morte suddenly shouts.

"Huh? Yeah. I guess I did."

"That's the shout that companion whatshisname showed you wasn't it? The three words for fire."

"Uh, I guess. I just have it in my journal in the shouts section. Also, I'm pretty sure I only shouted one word. YOL"

"But last time you couldn't do it. Why can you do it now?"

"I… Practice makes perfect?"

Morte looks at you with worry.

"See this is the problem! You have these powers, but you don't know how to control them! Or even how to use them! How can you be Dragonborn if you don't know how to use this stuff?"

Sensing Mary's confusion, you explain what the last few days have brought you. She listens enthralled as you describe your awakening of the chosen one or whatever. You also detail your short night with the companions, after which Morte has to step in as your journal doesn't actually have any information about turning into a rat or what happened between that and waking up in a cave with a mountain of corpses on top of you. Unfortunately to best describe this, you have to bring up the memory loss thing.

"Nnnnnnnnnoooooottttt rrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeemmmmmmmmbbbbeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrr (Not remember)?"

You shake your head and lift up your journal.

"Every day I forget, so I have to make sure to record all crucial information in this journal. When I read it, or get some recollection of this information, it just kind of comes flooding back. It's crazy I know."

She nods in agreement, Morte looks off into the horizon. "You have no idea," he mutters.

"Sssssssssseeeeeeeeeezzzzzzzzz tttttteeeeeeeeeeee sssssssssssskkkkkkkkkuuuuuuuuuulllllllll (Says the skull)."

You and she laugh. He just kind of shrugs (You think. It's hard to tell).

You continue through the next until around noon when you arrive at the ruins. They give off a bad vibe but still you're here to help a friend. You take a deep breath expecting plenty of regular draugr between you and the draugr like Mary and walk in.

"Cowards! All of them! Running away from a few corpses. I'm not afraid of a few dead men. I-aaaaaaggggggghhhhh!"

Inside you come face to face with a dark elf woman in a green dress readying an arrow at Mary. You immediately step in front of her, holding up your shield, which you don't even remember getting. You really do have memory problems!

"Lower your bow, lady," Morte quickly bites it out of her hand. "This dead chick deserves a better out than you!"

"What the hell? How did the dead get behind me? I've been watching this entrance for hours!"

"Yeah and we want back in our graves, chit! So, stand aside! We're coming home!"

She looks surprised, then thinks hard. "You really mean no harm to me? Then how would you feel about helping me get inside? My men have all run away and there are a number of draugr not like you in the next room. Would you help me take them out?"

"If it's the only way through." You lower your shield and began to head down the passage. "Just don't hurt this one, and we won't hurt you."

"Oh. All right. Just hands off the treasure down there. It's mine!" You see the gleam of greed in her eyes and resolve to stand between her and Mary out of concern. You follow the woman down into the depths, Morte continues to float on ahead and remain uncharacteristically quiet, when normally two women in close quarters with him would have him barking mad.

You suddenly hear shouting from Morte up ahead, followed by the shrieks of what sound like Mary only less friendly. You and the women with you rush out into the wide-open chamber to find Morte has already done the work for you. And strewn on the ground lie three dead (well-deader) draugr.

"Well what do you know," the dark elf says surprised. "Looks like you aren't friends with them after all."

"Thanks for the compliment, chit." Morte examines the barred gate in front of you. "Guess the treasure's through here. But I don't see any kind of lever. Whaddaya think lady? Maybe your thick skull, can break it."

"Watch it floating head. There must be a way to open this gate." You look around the room for a minute and find two unlocked doors.

"There may be some way to open this gate through one of these two doors," the elf reasoned. "I'll go with the scarred man this way, and you two take the other path."

Morte quickly intervenes.

"Why don't you come with me chit? He's a bit of a newbie still trying to find his feet."

"What? No way am I going with either of you! I want the alive one!"

"Trust me lady. It's safer."

That phrase fully confirms your suspicions about Morte's recent behavior. You think it's time to talk to someone about it. Unfortunately, you aren't ready to do that with Morte just yet.

"He's right." Everyone turns to you surprised. "I'm new at this. Why don't you go with the pro? He'll keep you safe I guarantee it."

She gives you a look of are you kidding me, but still somehow gets convinced to go with Morte through one of the doors while you follow Mary through the other.

The traverse through is similar to your travels the last time you were with Mary. At least you think so. You don't actually remember the experience, just the notes you took on it. But you also took notes on the draugr and how to best fight them.

When you finally get a moment of respite, you judge Mary, wondering if she's ok with killing other draugr. So far as you can tell, she doesn't have any major issues.

"I'm worried about Morte."

She looks at you surprised about that sudden unexpected statement.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but he hasn't been his usual chatty self recently. I think my recent massacre has chilled him out. I think he's been watching me to see if I lose control again. I think he's afraid."

She takes that in a bit before responding.

"Yyyyyyyyuuuuuuuu ccccccccccuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnssssssssseeeeeedddddddddrrrrrrrr hhhhmmmmmmmmmm fffffrrrrrrreeeeeeeennnnn (You consider him friend)?"

"Of course. He's stuck with me ever since I woke up destined for the block. He's annoying often, but I'd take that any day over this sullen silence."

"Ccccccccuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnsssssssiiiiiiiirrrrrnnnnnnnnddddddd bbbbbbbuuuuuuuuuuutttttttt ppppppppprrrrrrrrrr. Fffffffffffrrrrrraaaaaaadddddddd yyyyyyyyyyyyuuuuuuuuuu lllllllooooosssssss ccccccccuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnttttttttrrrrrruuuuullllllll. (Concerned about power. Afraid you lose control)."

"I suppose that is a logical concern, especially given my tendency to amnesia. But how can I prove to him that I won't lose control?"

"Yyyyyyyyyyuuuuuuuu lllllllluuuuuuuuuussssssssssttttttttttt (You lost control)."

"Oh." You already forgot that little outburst. Of course, that would make him think twice.

"Somehow I don't think words will be enough to convince him otherwise."

"Aaaaaakkkkkkkkcccccchhhhhhhhuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnsssssssss mmmmmmmmmaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. Ssssssssssshhhhhhoooooooooo ccccccccuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnttttttttrrrrrruuuuullllllll (Actions may. Show control)."

"I don't know that I can. If I could just remember things day to day, maybe I could but… If he's not there or my journal isn't. I don't know. And now this rat blood or whatever. I can't even think straight anymore."

"Hhhhhhhhuuuuuuuuvvvvvvvvv fffffffaaaaaaattttttttttthhhhhhh nnnnnnn yyyyyyyyyyyyuuuuuuuu. Ffffffffffrrrrrrrrruuuuunnnnnnnnddddddsssssss. Hhhhhhhhheeeeeee cccccaaaarrrrrsssssss ffffffff yyyyyyyyyyuuuuuu. Rrrrrrrrruuuusssssspppppppeeeeeccccccssssss (Have faith in you. Friends. He cares for you. Respects)."

You have to stop there as you find yourself once again forced to fight off the hordes of draugr rushing at you. You try to take Mary's words to heart and keep from lashing out in rapid bloodlust. It's not easy, since every instinct tells you to go batshit insane on their asses, including Mary's. You somehow keep it in check long enough to find a lever of some sort.

The gates in front of you open up and you find yourself back in the main chamber. This time with the previously barred gate open as well.

"It's mine!" You turn in surprise to see Morte and the dark elf have apparently been waiting here for a bit. She takes off through the gate. "It's mine! Mine! Mine! Mine! Mi- aagh!"

You and the two dead people follow after her only to be met with a strange sight. A large pillar lies in the center of the room with spikes on top. To the side lies the dark elf dead.

The three of you stare at the corpse then each other, trying to figure out how the hell that happened.

"Ssssssssssssuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyyy mmmmmmmmuuuuuurrrrrrrtttttttt (Sorry Morte)."

He snorts.

"Oh don't even. Most arrogant, snotty, self-centered chit I ever met. All she could talk about was mr scar man here. Good riddance I say."

"Well I'm glad you're handling this well." You see in the center of the pillar are some stairs. You follow them down to find a wall with ancient writing on it.

"It's another shout," Morte says with some concern. Looking in closer, he reads the three words. And seems to relax a little.

"This one might actually be a little useful. Animal allegiance. It tames wild animals and even convinces them to fight for you."

Morte seems to trust you with that power at least. Perhaps it's destructive power he's hesitant to show you? You walk forward and stare hard into the wall. Once again (you presume since you don't actually remember doing it) you feel the knowledge flood your senses.

RAAN MIR TAH. Those three words become etched into your mind. You have no idea what they mean or how they're supposed to help you control animals. You'd best remember to ask the Greybeards that. You write down the shout into your shout section of the journal along with what you discussed with Mary.

"Updated my journal."

While Morte gives you an annoyed glare, Mary looks about in dismay.

"Nnnnnnnnnnnnnoooooooooooottttttttttt gggggggggggaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnn. Nnnnnnnnnnooooooooo dddddddddddeeeeeeeeeedddddddddddddd llllllllllllllliiiiiiiiiiiikkkkkkkkkkkk mmmmmmmmmmmm (Not again. No dead like me).

"Don't lose hope chit." Morte shows the first real emotion you've seen all day. "You said it yourself. If you exist, there's got to be more right?"

"Just like there's probably more floating talking skulls," you interject. "Although I sure hope there aren't."

To your joy, he cracks a smile, showing some of that normal self. And you can't believe you're glad to see that.

Making your way back outside the ruins, not paying any attention to the dark elf corpse (did you even get her name?), you see night has fallen.

Hunting for food, you decide to use your newly acquired shout to make the rabbits you're chasing docile. Sadly, it doesn't appear to even work and you fall face down in the dirt as dinner hops away.

"What, you thought you'd master it in less than a day?" Morte floats back with a rabbit's neck caught between his jaws.

"I appear to have mastered those other shouts rather quickly."

"Yeah I still don't get it. Guess that's one more question you'll have to ask the Greybeards."

"We. You mean we'll have to ask the Greybeards."

"Nuh uh. No can do chief. The Greybeards summoned the Dragonborn, not his skull sidekick. Those geysers want nothing to do with me. You and you alone can head through those doors."

"But you can shout too. Surely they could make an exception?"

"Doubtful. I don't have the control or discipline to match their standards. They'll make one exception, and one alone. You."

"Ggggggggaaaaaaaayyyyyyyybbbbbbbbbbeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrddddddddddddddssssssss? Ffffffffffrrrrrrrrrrrrruuuuuuuummmmmmmmmm Hhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiii Hhhhhhhhooooooooottttttttttttgggggggaaaaaarrrrrrrrrr (Greybeards? From High Hrothgar?)? Mary walks into the clearing with a pheasant and some bundles of wood. In the darkness, she doesn't need to wear her hood.

"That's where we're headed. Home of the high and mighty shout masters," Morte delivers in his usual sarcastic manner. You get the feeling there's a more personal reason for his disgust towards them. However ,you need to find a better time to ask him, when you've earned back some of his trust.

"Ssssssssshhhhhhhhrrrrrrrrrruuuuuuuuuuudddddddd hhhhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrtttttttttttthhhhhhhh bbbbbbbbbbbaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrooooooooo nnnnnnnnnneeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrr tttttttttttthhhhhhhhhrrrrrrrr (Shroud Hearth Barrow near there).

You look at the map, and indeed on the outskirts of Ivarstead, the town at the base of the mountain, there is a structure that goes by that name.

"Another place they bury the dead. Think there's a chance they could be there?"

She shrugs her shoulders. Not sure at this point. How can you fault her when her dreams have already been crushed twice?

"Well we'd be delighted to keep your company a little longer," Morte reassures her. "The three musketeers stick together!"

You decide not to question that particular name for your group.

The next day, you come across another set of ruins. In the center lies a dais with a strange… you don't know what.

Your confusion is not shared by Mary who examines the strange object with understanding and awe.

"Dddddwwwwwwwwweeeeeeeeeemmmmmmmmmeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrr rrrrrrrrruuuuuuunnnnnnnnssssss (Dwemer ruins)."

"Dwemer?"

"The baddest of the bad chief. Deep-elves, dwarves. Whatever you wanna call them. Way more advanced than anything that walks on this earth. Built those annoying modron cubes. And that's honestly the least of it. Disappeared a while back, but their ruins still remain. Along with all the bloody traps they left behind. If you wanna live, you stay away. They frigging summoned daedric lords just to test themselves. No idea what happened to them. Don't care. Good riddance."

"Ppppppppppppuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrddddddddddddddyyyyyyyyy wwwwwwwwwuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrkkkkkkkkkkkkssssssssssssss (Pretty works)."

Morte gives her a look of are you kidding me.

Another race to remember. Great.

"Updated my journal."

You press on from there, the rest of the trip uneventful. Except of course for the bear that mistakes Morte for a honey hive and tries to tear it out of his head. There's some dark humor to get out of that. Deep down you know it's probably not the best thing to laugh since you need to repair your relationship issues. But damn it! It's funny!

Finally, by nightfall, you see it. The town of Ivarstead, at the base of the seven thousand steps to the Throat of the World. You look up to the top way on high and shudder at the distance you have to climb.

"Damn."

"I know right," Morte smirks. "Seven thousand steps all the way to the monastery. Steep and cold. Wolves too. Helluva view. If you can make it."

"Those Greybeards better have something damn good for me up there."

"I don't envy you. You've got at least half a day of climbing tomorrow. Hope the beds up there are cozy."

"You really aren't coming with me?"

He sighs. "I've already made the climb myself. Nothing new to see. Besides I can't go into the monastery. I'd be forced to wait outside on the steps for you to complete your indoctrination."

"Hhhhhhhhhuuuuuuuullllllllpppppppppp mmmmmmmmmmm sssssssssrrrrrrrrccccccccc bbbbbbbbuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrroooooooooooosssssssss (Help me search barrows)."

"See there's not a bad idea. She and I can go grave digging for cute zombie chicks while you climb a mountain to work on your vocals with some senile old cranks."

"When you say it like that, I almost envy you."

"What's not to be envious of? I mean look at me!" That's the problem with Morte. You can't always tell if he's joking or not.

Mary sneaks off to sleep in the Barrows. You don't feel great about letting her go in there alone. But she promises to stay in the first chamber and not go any deeper. Plus she's used to it.

You and Morte meanwhile head for the inn. You get what you assume is the usual stare from the residents. You ignore them while Morte seems to bask in it and ask for a room from the front desk.

"What? Oh yes, of course. I was just wondering if maybe, you wanted some help or aid of some kind?"

"Nah. He's a tough berk. We just need some rest."

"Well, that's good to hear. I'm not even sure how we would go about helping your condition."

You go into your room. You place a pillow on the ground for Morte and he falls asleep without any further words. You on the other hand feel wide awake, which is not the feeling you want the night before a big ass climb to chat with some ruddy old geezers.

You look through your sack for anything that might knock you out. You do have some weapons that might do the trick, but their prescription is a little too strong. You have a bit of wine that comes with the room. But that would lead to the unpleasant side effect of a hangover, which is definitely not what you want on a hike.

Shifting through your bag further still, you suddenly pull out a book. "The Book of the Dragonborn."

You're shocked. How long have you had this? Where did you even get it? There's no record in your journal about picking this up.

Trying and failing to remember, you figure you ought to maybe at least have some basic knowledge about what the hell you are so the Greybeards don't think too low of you. Who knows? It may even put you to sleep. After all, nothing spells boring like long-winded, convoluted legends.


	8. High Hrothgar

"Rise and shine sunshine."

Your first response to the grinning skull is of course to jump up in bed and grab for your mace. Then the skull spits out a journal onto your lap.

"Seriously chief. This is getting old. See if you can get those Greybeards to fix your head." He/she/it floats out. Leaving you with the journal.

Thirty minutes later, you remember enough, including how you're going to be spending your day. Damn skull.

The skull (Morte) is fitting his profile well already by arguing with the bar tender. The two are going back and forth heaving profanities at each other at record speed.

"100 coins for a bottle of wine!? That's more than your mother sold you for as a baby!"

"You floating little pansie! My mother was a saint! Yours was some two time whore from Riften!"

"Ooohhhh, tough talk short guy! If your head was any bigger, it'd flatten your tiny frame flat!"

"You'd kill to have my frame, you cockless coward!"

You and the rest of the inn stare back and forth as the two go on and on. You look at your journal again. It says in his profile Morte has a proclivity for insults. You look up again to see the two have finally stopped.

"New taunts all right!"

Note to self. Morte seems to get off on conflict. You step forward before the two can get at it again.

"It says here, I'm to climb the steps and talk to the Greybeards."

"Ha! If I took a drink every time I heard some fool say that, I'd be dead!"

Morte looks at the bar tender annoyed then turns back to address you.

"That's right. You get to climb a long ass slippery staircase and speak with some old losers about some nonsensical power to help you kill dragons or some shit."

"Losers? How dare you speak of the mighty Greybeards so dishonorably! With but one breath, they could destroy you!"

"Funny, I could do the same to you shorty. Squash you like an ant."

"You- you dare?"

"Morte," you try to intervene. To no avail of course, they're already at it again. "Morte, I'm leaving. I'll see you later ok? Morte? Morte!" Seeing there's no getting to them, you start towards the door, stopping when you realize you haven't had breakfast. Checking to make sure they're still preoccupied with each other, you quickly swipe a sweet roll and some more food for lunch later. It's for the greater good you tell yourself. Plus, you're the Dragonborn, damn it! You're above the law!

"New taunts all right," Morte says as you slip out the door and follow directions to the base of the steps. You guess most of these people didn't see you come in last night as they're looking at you trying to decide if you're a zombie or not.

At the base, you see two men debating, one with a sack over his shoulder.

"You sure you want to do this? I know it's kind of your thing, but you're getting up there in age."

"Indeed I am. But someone's got to go. And no one knows the steps like I do."

"But it's so dangerous up there! Safe down here- Draugr!"

They both recoil at the sight of you walking forward. You just ignore them walk on past. The one arguing against going up relaxes then as if getting an idea, rushes after you.

"Hey you! Scar man! Going up?"

You look at his hopeful face, and simply nod. Silently wishing he would stand aside.

"You think maybe you could carry this satchel up the mountain to the monastery at top? Leave it in the chest at top?"

"No! That's my job! Ignore him!"

"Please. It's really not that hard! You're on your way up there anyway! Just give this old man a hand!"

You honestly don't want to. The hike up is going to be difficult enough without carrying an extra sack over your shoulder. You think.

"I'll do it for 300 coins."

The man blanches.

"300? That's preposterous!"

"It's fine," the satchel's owner insists. "I'll do it. I've never fai- aaagg!"

As if fate is laughing at him, he suddenly twists his ankle and tumbles to the ground. His partner runs up to help him.

"What did I tell you stubborn fool? You can't make the climb! You're too old!"

"Looks like you've got no choice then. I'm your only hope."

"But 300 coins? Seriously?"

"I need money. We do people favors, we get money. That's how it works isn't it?"

He looks at his friend on the ground and sighs, realizing you won't do this out of the kindness of your heart. Hey, a man's got to eat right?

"Fine, here's 300 coins and a satchel. Just bring it to the chest at the entrance to the monastery and leave it in there. You can't go in so don't try."

"Oh no. I'm going all the way. Dragonborn privileges and all that."

He clearly has no idea what to make of that. So he just shrugs and helps his friend to his feet.

"Whatever, "Dragonborn. Just bring those supplies to the Greybeards, and then I hope you choke on those coins."

"If I do that, who's going to save us from the dragons? Certainly not you." You turn away from his bewildered expression and set foot on the first of the seven thousand steps.

At the top of the first incline, you see a tablet. Figuring you've got time, you take a peek at it.

Emblem I-Before the birth of men, the dragons ruled the Great Material Plane; Their word was the voice, and they spoke only for war. For war was the law of the land. The dragons and their voice, the fiends and their rage. Yet no matter, how harsh their rage, the dragon's voice always prevailed.

You can't help but wonder if there's going to be some kind of quiz by the Greybeards on this stuff. Therefore like any student cramming at the last moment, you jot it down in the section titled, "Nonsensical gibberish."

Heading up the stairs you are suddenly hit by something sticky that covers your face. Pulling it off, you realize it's- webbing?

Another is spat at your from the mouth of a giant spider. You quickly reach for your mace, only to find you have none. You must have forgotten it back in your room!

You quickly retreat while looking through your journal for some knowledge that might help. Then just as the beast is upon you, you see three words.

YOL TOOR SHUL.

For some reason, that gives you the insane need to belch, which you do: right on the spider.

Unfortunately for it, that burp comes out as a flame, scorching it dry.

"Fire. Just like a dragon. Cool."

You continue on your merry way up, looking out over the horizon while also keeping an eye on the road for any more spiders.

At the end of the second switchback, you see a second tablet and a man kneeling in front of it. He rises at your approach and raises a hand in greeting.

"Hail stranger. Making the climb? Keep an eye out for wolves on your way up to High Hrothgar."

"And giant spiders."

"Spiders? There are no spiders on this trail."

"Really? Not even the massive one I just ran into?"

He looks confused. "I don't know what you're talking about. I've climbed this mountain many times and never have I encountered a spider."

"Are you serious? It was right on the trail, waiting for me! How did it overlook you? Not good enough sport?"

He frowns. "Well that's hardly appropriate. I for one am one of the finest hunters in Ivarstead."

"One who doesn't use his eyes, apparently." You look at the tablet. "Another one?"

"Yes, there ten in total in fact. They detail the fall of the dragons and the rise of men. Keep an eye out for them and wolves on your way up. They'll explain a lot."

"And spiders," you mutter as you read the next tablet.

Emblem II- Men were born and spread over the planes. The dragons presided over the crawling masses; men were weak then and had no voice. But they had ambition, and in that, the fiends saw a means of revenge.

"Fascinating."

"Indeed. The history of man, and the world." The hunter picks up his equipment. "I'm heading back down. Enjoy the rest of the hike. And remember, watch out for wolves."

"And giant spiders, right?"

"Oh don't be ridiculous. Whoever heard of giant spiders making the climb?" He shakes his head and walks back down. You do the same and continue on.

You make sure to look through your available shouts that you can use and pull out your bow and arrow, even though you don't really know how to use it.

"Right, just wolves. Just keep an eye out for wolves. No problem. No giant spiders or anything like that, right?"

As if to fuck with you, you hear a roar followed by a giant cat with teeth glaring down at you from a few steps up.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?"

The beast charges down at you whilst you let loose an arrow at it- only for it to miss and strike a tree.

"Fuck!" You dodge to the side just in time to avoid the beast's fangs. But not to miss its claws tear you as it goes sailing past.

You scream in agony, clutching your back side and turning to face your opponent as it readies for another lunge. You shot another arrow which results in another miss and the beast is upon you.

You yell and thrust your hand with another arrow between its jaws. The arrow goes through the back of the creature's head and it goes limp on top of you.

You struggle to push the carcass off you before you suffocate. You push it off the edge and it falls- down on top of the hunter from earlier.

Snickering at the poetic justice and simultaneously wincing from the scars on your back you continue on up, no longer looking out over the horizon for fear of anything leaping out at you.

Further up where the snow begins, you encounter another tablet. As you sit down to bandage your bleeding back you read it over only half caring at this point.

Emblem III- The fledgling spirits of men were strong in old times; Unafraid to war with dragons and their voices; But the dragons only shouted them down and broke their hearts. Sensing their anger, the fiends made a bargain with men, the first of many.

With your back bandaged, you move on, limping to avoid further opening the hole in your back. You don't know what step you're on. You've lost count.

A little further on, you encounter another tablet with a woman meditating in front of it. Looking closely, you see to your annoyance that she shares no claw marks. Moving closer, you take a look at the tablet and copy it down too

Emblem IV-The fiends knew of one who showed fondness for man. The dragon Paathurnax. They taught man the art of deception. To play to one's weaknesses. With this new found knowledge, man played to Paarthurnax's weakness- his pity for man. He taught men to use the voice; then dragon war raged, Dragon against tongue. Meanwhile, the fiends watched and waited for the time to strike.

"A new face! Always glad to see newcomers to the steps!" You turn to see the woman has noticed you. She doesn't seem shocked by your face.

"A soldier no doubt. Aye to you Redguard. I know the troubles that befell your land. Your scars are well earned no doubt.

"Indeed they are. While I notice you have none yourself."

"Oh, I'm no soldier. I just make this trip every few years to meditate on the steps. No scars to be earned here. No real danger except for the occasional wolf."

You feel your jaw twitch. "And giant cat?"

"Giant cat? Oh no. No giant cats here. None that I've seen anyway."

"Really," your voice starts to rise in anger. "How about giant spider? Surely you've seen one of those."

"No. Nothing but wolves. Beyond that, it's a peaceful walk to the top. Well to the Greybeard's home anyway."

"Are you serious? I just got mauled by a spider and cat in one day! You by contrast have been coming for years and never encountered one once!?"

"Honestly, no. Not one. Perhaps the altitude is getting to you?"

"I can handle altitude, thank you very much," you growl. "Have a good day, maam. I wouldn't stay here too long, lest you become set upon by a monster."

"You take care too," she replies back smiling. "Keep an eye out for wolves!"

You bite back some harsh reply and head up the path before you can strangle her.

You're so annoyed that you almost miss the next tablet soon afterwards. But you're destined to be Dragonborn, so you might as well read.

Emblem V-Man prevailed, shouting the Transcendent One out of the world; Proving for all that their voice was too strong; Although their sacrifices were many-fold; The fiends meanwhile relished in the destruction of their enemies and witness the chance for conquest.

More talk of shouts. This doesn't sound like your portrait of dragons. Where's the fire? Where's the wings?

You press on, looking for more spiders or cats. Screw what those other people thought. You know what you saw!"

Oh look. Another tablet. Sighing, you lean in for another look. Keep it together. You're halfway there, you tell yourself.

Emblem VI- With roaring tongues the Sky-children conquer, founding the First Empire with sword and voice; Whilst the dragons withdrew from this plane; The fiends meanwhile had waited long enough. Their rage overpowered them and they struck.

Fiends. Fiends. In your mind you know you've heard that word before, and it doesn't give you a happy feeling.

That's when you hear another roar. This time through from some three eyed giant staring down at you.

"Not again!" You shout the fire breath at it and watch it flail.

However this does not prove fatal and the beast is soon charging at you.

"Oh come on! Just fucking die!" You try to unleash another breath, but to no avail. Instead you end up coughing.

Damn. Looks like it needs time to recharge. Meanwhile you've got this muscled bastard running at you. With no other option, you run back down.

Unfortunately the stairs prove slippery and you fall over rolling down and colliding with your most recent tablet. You try to stand only to find strong hands wrapped around your throat.

You kick and punch to no avail. The beast persists. Then when you're about to pass out from lack of oxygen, you feel the flame rekindled.

"YOL!"

You have no idea what the hell that means, and right now you don't care as you watch the bastard burn again, this time losing its footing and going off the edge.

You laugh while simultaneously wincing from the pain. You sit there for a bit pulling out your food for lunch; Only to find it's been smushed!

You pause for a minute to let it sink in. That's you when you scream, or more accurately shout.

"Damn it all! Damn these scars! Damn these monsters! Damn these steps! Damn those idiots who only see wolves! Damn it all!"

You scream and curse at the unfairness of it all. Of the Nameless One. He who remembers nothing. Not even his own name! And he's the savior of the world?

You sit there for what feels like an hour, maybe even more. You consider going down the mountain. You're probably more than halfway. But honestly, getting your ass nearly handed to you by mere animals, after you apparently killed a dragon is honestly embarrassing.

You debate it for a while. Yet by some miracle, you get up and climb up, despite the pains wracking your body.

Fortunately you don't encounter any more resistance. You don't think you could survive another attack. You also don't encounter any more people, which is also fortunate since you're pretty sure you'd strangle the next idiot who told you to watch out for wolves.

You do however encounter a few more tablets. However, by this point you frankly don't give a damn. You spit on them. "Fuck you and your dragon bullshit!"

And then finally. Finally you clear the last step and make it to the top. Or more accurately the monastery. It gives off both a sense of satisfaction after the beating you took to get here.

You're about to head in and get something for your daunting ascent when you see a chest at the base of the monastery.

"Oh right, the old man's offering. Or whatever." You pull the satchel over your shoulder. Whatever's in there feels a little smushed. Oh well. You dump it in the chest.

Time for some explanations then. Including maybe some help wth your memory and appearance. Who knows? You head on in, ready to show Morte's old losers what you're made of.

...

You walk in already pretty angry. Then you see all the old men dressed in their fancy robes staring at you silently, with no apparent scars of their own. That's when you feel your temper start to boil even more. Then one of them walks forward and says something which simply sends you over the edge.

"A visitor among us. Could it be you Dovahkiin? I trust the wolves did not give you much trouble?"

"Wolves? WOLVES? HOW ABOUT SPIDERS, GIANT CATS, AND A WHATTHEFUCK!? YOU WHO'VE APPARENTLY LIVED IN THIS SHITHOLE YOUR ENTIRE LIVES HAVE THE NERVE TO TALK ABOUT FUCKING WOLVES WITH ME!? DO YOU IDIOTS HAVE NO CLUE WHAT LIES OUTSIDE!? ANY IDEA WHAT I'VE HAD TO DO TO GET HERE!? AND ALL YOU AND EVERYONE ELSE ON THIS FUCKING MOUNTAIN CAN SAY IS "HOW ARE THE WOLVES!?" WELL TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTION, NO! THE FUCKING WOLVES DID NOT GIVE ME MUCH TROUBLE BECAUSE THERE WEREN'T NO FUCKING WOLVES! NOT ONE! NOT ONE LADYDAMN WOLF! AM I REALLY SUPPOSED TO LEARN HOW TO SAVE THE WORLD FROM A BUNCH OF VOICELESS MORONS WHO DON'T KNOW YOU HAVE AN INFESTATION ON YOUR PROPERTY!? SCREW THIS! I DON'T NEED YOU! I DON'T NEED ANYONE! I AM DRAGONBORN! HEAR ME ROAR! YOL!"

You let loose your shout of fire, setting the carpet on fire. The Greybeards looked shocked for a moment, then quickly use their own shout to blow out the fire. The man who addressed rushes forward and places a hand on your shoulder to calm you down before you blow another gasket.

"Please Dovahkiin, calm yourself! We meant no insult to you, and all you have endured to get here. It is true we do not venture outside of this monastery, but it is due to our duty to the voice. Please, sit down for a second. I can see about your injuries."

You're still angry but you take him at his word and sit down on the bench. He uses some kind of spell on your recent wounds from the cat and whatever the fuck choked you. You shudder a bit as you feel the wound close up. However, to your dismay and his, the spell doesn't appear to work on the scars you had when you woke up. He frowns.

"These scars… they are unlike any I have ever seen. Were I you, I might consider the college of Winterhold. They know a bit about magic. They might be able to offer some aid."

Winterhold. You remember reading about that in your journal.

"But won't I be here for a while, to study the way of the voice or whatever?"

"Oh no Dovahkiin. This should actually be a rather short visit. We have been here all our lives, studying the voice. But you as Dragonborn can master what would take us years in seconds."

"Really? Because as far as I can tell, I've got three shouts in my journal but can only use two."

"Ah but you can still already use two with no effort, can you not?"

"Yeah, but I can't use this animal one."

"But you have shown you have the power. Now we may help you develop it and show you the way to your destiny. Rise Dragonborn. We have much to teach you. I am master Arngeir, and before we begin I must ask another question. Why have you come?"

That takes you off guard. To be honest, you really don't know. Your journal says you've sort of been wandering aimlessly wherever anyone tells you. You had intended to leave Skyrim and all its problems until your awakening. You can't really say what it is that made you answer the summons, or join the companions, or even tolerate that damn skull for so long. Someone had placed a path before you and you took it. Because really, what else was there but to wander the wastes with no memory or name?

But then you consider the words in your journal, and you know the kind of thoughts running through your head as you wrote. Loneliness. Longing. Confusion. A desire to belong. A desire to know who and what you are.

"I wish to know myself."

Arngeir tilts his head somewhat confused.

"Can you elaborate?"

"In knowing one becomes strong." These are not your words, but they hold strength. The Greybeards seemed intrigued by it.

"I do not know myself. I have no memories of my life before the dragons came. Scars line my body, causing pain with every step. Scars line my mind. Every day I forget who I am. Without this journal or people to refresh my memories, I would be lost, wandering aimlessly with no idea who I am or what I'm supposed to do."

You pause to collect your thoughts then continue. "That is why I came. As Dragonborn I have a name, an identity, a purpose. Without it, I am nothing and no one. I came here to know more, and in doing so ultimately know myself."

The Greybeards nod satisfied and in Arngeir's case, impressed with your answer.

"You have much wisdom for one who claims to know nothing. I sense there is more to you than you think Dragonborn. We will help you to find it just, as we have with Dragonborns before you."

"I'm not the first?"

"Many mortals have carried dragon blood. Akatosh's gift to man. Whether you are the only Dragonborn of this age is unclear. You are the only one revealed thus far. Thus it falls upon us to show the way to knowing your destiny. As you have so eloquently put it."

He and the other Greybeards now form a circle around the center of the room.

"A shout as you might have noticed is different from the magic of Tamriel and those used by the fiends in their pointless war. If you read the tablets on the way up here, you will know that shouting is the language of dragons."

You flush a bit. "Tablets. Right. Fucking tablets."

"Pardon?"

"Oh nothing! Continue."

"As Dragonborn, you possess the blood and spirit of a dragon. This allows you to quickly pick up words of power."

"These words of power?" You hold up your journal showing the shouts you have recorded."

"Correct. All shouts are made up of three words of power. As you master each word, your shout becomes stronger."

"I'm not a master? I'm a dragon damn it!"

"Yet in your breath of fire, you have only spoken one of the three words of power. With time, you may gain greater understanding. Greater knowing. But yes. With the spirit of a dragon, you pick this up much quicker. Allow us to extend your knowing. Master Einarth? Show our friend Ro, the second word in unrelenting force."

You turn to this master expecting him to speak. Which he does, you guess. He speaks the word Ro and words appear on the ground in front of you. You look at them and know that this is not new to you.

"Ro means balance, which combined with force "fus" helps focus your Thu'um."

"My what?"

"Your shout."

We call shouts Thu'um?" You shake your head. "No wonder you guys stay here. Walking around Skyrim spouting this stuff would make you laughing stocks."

"Regardless you have the gift. Truly the blood of dragons runs in you."

"And the blood of rats," you mutter to yourself. You still don't remember turning into one. But you can feel its blood raging in excitement. Begging to be let out.

"Now though, can you use your Thu'um? Let us practice with targets."

"I have a better idea." You grin feeling a little bit brave and use it on a particular Greybeard who's been giving you a bad eye since you arrived. You speak the words. Wait what were they again? Oh right.

"FUS RO."

Your shout is followed by a laugh as the arrogant bastard is launched across the floor. He picks himself back up and looks at you with rage. He opens his mouth but Arngeir quickly rushes over to stop him.

"No! Your voice could kill him! Remember, we are above those emotions. Consider this a test of our devotion."

He looks ashamed then and Arngeir turns back to you.

"That being said Dovahkiin, that was uncalled for."

"My bad," you give an innocent grin.

"Our next trial shall be outside in the courtyard. Follow master Borri."

Master Borri (thankfully not the guy you just knocked over) walks out through doors on the other side of the monastery and you follow him. Outside the sun has begun to go down. There is enough light however to get a fantastic view. If you look far enough, you see a settlement far down which you think is Whiterun. You remember your journal entry about there and shudder.

Master whatshisname speaks (sorry shouts) a new word onto the snowy ground in front of you. You look at it and the word flows into you.

WULD.

"This whirlwind sprint will allow you to cover great ground with a single breath. Master Wulfgar will demonstrate."

The guy who you knocked over gives you a vicious grin then shouts and seemingly is carried forward through a gate on the edge of the courtyard.

"Now your turn. Sprint through the gate before it closes and-"

"WULD!"

You jump the gun and go slam into the gate before it even opens. You fall to the ground and see the guy on the other side of the gate still grinning.

"Laugh it off nerd."

"Well," Arngeir scratches his head embarrassed. "That was not how I planned it but I believe you have shown you can master this with time. I'm glad to see the legends of the Dragonborn are true. Now for your last trial."

"Ooh. A new shout? One that makes me fly?"

"Actually, no. The horn of Jurgen Windcaller, our founder. It lies buried in his tomb in the ancient Ustengrav."

"What? I just got here, and you already want me to go galloping off to another tomb?"

"We can only set you on the path Dragonborn. It is you who must walk it. You claim you wish to know yourself. Do this, remain true to the way of the voice, and I guarantee you will know yourself in time."

"But to know the path to knowing myself, there are other things I must know. How can I know some words but not use them?"

"You refer to animal allegiance. You do not have enough dragon souls?"

"Dragon souls? Isn't that the name of a book?"

"No that would be Demon's souls. Story of Boletaria. A truly heartbreaking tragedy if I do say so myself. I refer to your defining trait as Dragonborn. Do you not know it?"

You blush ashamed. "I might have read about it last night. But I forget everything the next day so."

"You forget. Thus, have you remembered to update your journal?"

"Update my- oh right! Can't forget that! Updated my journal."

He waits patiently for you to write down everything you're learned then continues.

"When you kill a dragon, you can absorb its souls and knowledge of voices. Thus if you know the first word of Unrelenting force and breath of fire, that would mean you've killed two thus far."

"I guess. Don't remember much about the second one though. I guess I was kind of drunk."

"I,,,,doubt that. But as you defeat more dragons and absorb their knowledge, you can gain knowledge of new words of power. Thus any encounter with a dragon is a mixed blessing."

"Another thing I wish to know. What does it mean to be Dragonborn?"

"Then know it means whatever you wish it to mean. You have the soul and proclivity of the voice that all dragons have. But you can make your destiny however you wish. Of course, we are here to help on that road, if the dragon's defeat is in that future."

"What about my memory? How can I save the world with that roadblock?"

"I don't know what a roadblock is, but you have lasted this long with this burden. As long as you have a journal or someone to keep you updated, I believe you will last. We have faith in you Dragonborn. You have already defeated two dova and made your way here. That says something about you."

"Now, before you proceed, there is one last thing we believe you ought to know about. The symbol of the dragon."

"The what?"

That's when you hear it. You know you've heard I before. The roar of your enemies. Looking up you see it flying overhead down into the valley behind you.

"A dov! Heading for Ivarstead. They will be no match!" He turns to you. "Time to prove yourself Dovahkiin. They need you. If you wish to know yourself as Dragonborn, prove it now!"

"Wait, what was that about a symbol?"

"No time for that! Ivarstead has need of you! Go and fulfill your destiny! Now is the time to know yourself! Who are you? And what is your destiny?"

You pause for a second too long. You were actually kind of considering getting a room for the night beyond that smelly inn. Maybe wake up to a nice view of the plains. But you realize that the time has come to know yourself. And you choose to know yourself as a hero.

And so next thing you know, you're running towards the door and off to fight an extremely dangerous monster after a day of nothing but fighting dangerous monsters.

"Run dovahkiin! Return with the horn of our founder and we shall continue to aid in the way of the voice! Until then never forget to practice!"

What did I just say about memory problems? Seems like they've got some too.

You rush out the monastery knocking a Greybeard aside in your haste and charging down the mountain. You can only hope Morte is able to hold his own.

Of course, you're so focused on that and in such a hurry that naturally you being you, you slip and tumble down several feet of steps.

"Fucking Christ! How does anyone climb these things for fun?" You rise to your feet cursing. And that's when you see it. A herd of giant cats all charging down the mountain at you.

This is no time for freaking out though so you use your newly acquired whirlwind sprint and take off down the stairs. Of course, once you've used it, it takes time to recharge and that gives your pursuers a chance to catch up.

"How has no one seen one of these bastards!?" You take off again, having to duck as one leaps at you. You stifle a laugh as he (or she. You're not an animal expert) goes sailing over your head and off the edge.

Your throat feels ok enough now to go full whirlwind sprint again. Still, it's not enough to get away from the cats. That's when you're saved, again by another shout.

This shout however comes from the village down the hill. The dragon, your brethren you suppose. This causes the scaredy cats to panic and rush back up.

You grin at their cowardice then continue running back down. "Hang on skull. Just hang on."

The town is already on fire when you reach the base of the steps. The guards are doing what they can to harm the beast overhead, but there's simply not enough to fight back. The beast seems particularly focused on something near the barrows. In the darkness, you can't make out what though.

"Your face looks like a cross between a troll and Ulfric Stromcloak!"

You can hear however, and you recognize the same arguing voice that woke you up this morning. The dragon somehow seems angered by the skull's taunts and is focusing his breath on his location.

You rush up just as the dragon lands for a more personal fight. While he's focused on the skull, you greet his tail with a taste of your loyal mace.

The beast screams (or roars. Whichever takes your fancy) and whacks you with his tail.

As he moves to feast on you, an arrow strikes his eye. You look to see your savior and are shocked by the corpse with a bow.

"Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnnnnnn fffffffffffffffffkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk wwwwwwwwwwwwiiiiiiiiiiiitttttttttttttttt mmmmmmmmmmmm fffffffffffrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeeeennnnnnnnnnn (None fuck with my friend).

"Glad you could make it chief," the skull floats over. "I thought those bearded loons might keep you up there forever. Glad you got out. How'd you convince them to let you go?"

"Cats!"

"Cats? Oh I get it. Allergies right? No easier to coax someone into obeying you than threaten them with-"

"No cats! They followed me!" You point at the herd you thought you'd lost on the route rushing down.

"Sabre cats?" A nearby guard sounds shocked. "There aren't any of those around here, only wolves!"

"Are you fucking kidding?"

"Duck!" Morte pushes you out of the way as the dragon unleashes another blast that singes two of the herd.

"Huh. I think I like this guy."

"I don't think it's mutual chief." The beast looks again to bite your head off, and again the corpse (Mary, you recall) shoots him in the eye.

The dragon comes for her then. So like a good gentleman, you use whirlwind spring to get her out harm's way.

Morte whistles. "Damn boy. Guess you got something out of that all." He then turns to bite another cat that tries to return the favor.

Feeling confident, you jump on the dragon's head and unleash yol upon his fat head. You follow this up with your mace; Or at least try, but he grabs your arm in his hand and throws you against the Barrows wall.

Mary tries to aid with another arrow, but is set upon by a cat. Damn, you think to yourself. Those guys are persistent.

Oh right the dragon. The beast walks up to you. You can't be certain but he appears to be grinning.

"You think a few shouts make you dovahkiin? You may have the soul of a dova, but you are not our equal." He leans closer.

"You wish to know yourself, misery-bringer? There are some things we cannot unknow, even one who remembers nothing. Would you like to know yourself broken one, before I send you to await the coming of my lord in Sovngarde?"

"Y- you know me?"

"I know of you. I have heard stories of your crimes. But you may not wish to know yourself. You may also know regret."

Before he can speak again, Mary fires yet another arrow into him, catching his attention and wrath. He turns on her, pinning her up against the wall.

"You belong in your crypt diil. Dahmaan dez."

You look to Morte, to find him still engaged with the cats. It's up to you to save her. You want to know more about yourself. But it's either her, or you. You let lose another breath of fire, giving the lizard a taste of his own medicine. As he stumbles, you lay into him with your mace and Morte gives a fus doo rah that further throws him off balance and Mary in some kind of recurring joke shoots an arrow into his eye. Combine that with the guards hacking him from behind and he eventually can't go on. He looks at you as the light leaves his ancient eyes.

"You will never be a true dova. You will never truly know yourself."

"Soon, you won't know anything either."

He resigns himself to his fate at your words and his flesh begins to wither away. And in that moment, you remember his brothers you killed. And just like them, you watch his skin burn and his knowledge flow into you, leaving behind nothing but his skeleton.

"Chief, you did it again."

"Guess so." You think on what you heard up there, about taking knowledge from dragons. You now know the first word of the shout; RAAN, Animal.

"Uuuuuuuuuuoooooooooooo (Uh-oh)." Following Mary's gaze, you see the remaining pack of the Sabre cats is still approaching you for blood.

"RAAN." With that word, one of the sabre cats stops and immediately sets upon the other as it leaps upon you. With one swipe of its claw, the attacker lays dead, and your servant now looks up at you for instructions.

"Damn chief, you can do it now. And you just learned that two days ago!"

You point to a nearby cliff and the beast goes running off. A bit harsh perhaps, but you had a helluva climb with those things on your trail so screw what they think!

"Wow," a nearby guard finally says.

"I know."

"I've never seen a sabre cat in this place. I thought there were only wolves!"

You sock him to the ground in annoyance.

"Chief! Calm down!"

"Calm down? What is it with this place and wolves? I didn't see a single damn wolf! Will you all quit warning me about wolves and maybe about giant cats and spiders!?"

"How about corpses?" The innkeeper from before points to Mary, who in order to help unfortunately revealed herself in public.

"Hey hey, she's cool shorty!" Morte quickly floats in front. "She helped us fight the dragon didn't she? That's more than you did shorty!"

"Will you quit calling me that?"

"Well she did help! She's just trying to find family, or something!"

The two look like they're about to argue again, but they're suddenly broken up by… oh great that guy who asked you to bring food up the mountain.

"I've heard you two arguing all day. The draugr helped. She can stay. What I don't get is how you beat that thing. Isn't that technically impossible? Unless…."

"Listen…"

"Dragonborn?" It's as if the whole town froze. Everyone stares at you. Giving you the same stare they gave the dragon. Awe.

"Is it true? You the Dragonborn? Could it be?"

You look to Morte for guidance, but he seems unable to provide any sort of answer. So you turn to Mary. She looks at you for a bit. Then nods.

"It's true. I am the Dragonborn."

They gasp and began whispering among themselves.

"But I don't want you to think this means I'm some kind of god or anything. I am a man, nothing more."

"A man who just killed a dragon," the guy says in awe. "Guess I chose the right man to deliver the satchel after all."

After this, something remarkable happens. Everyone starts cheering, clapping and praising the name Dragonborn. You can't remember anything Before Skyrim. But you're pretty sure with your appearance, you never got anything like this.

A woman even begins singing something which would give you nightmares if you could remember it through to the next day.

"Our hero, our hero  
claims a warrior's heart  
I tell you, I tell you the Dragonborn comes-"

"Stop," you quickly put a hand over her mouth. "Please just stop. I do not need to hear that right now. For once I'm grateful I won't remember something."

"I unfortunately, don't have that privilege," Morte shudders. "Nor do I have hands to to cover my ears."

Mary snickers. "Wwwwwwwwwwwwuuuuuuuttttttttttttt eeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrssssssssssss (What ears)?"

"You know chief, Mary and I had quite an adventure in the Barrows here while you were walking around up top."

"Oh really? You think worse than what I had?"

"We can compare later. But apparently this barrows was being haunted by a fake ghost who kidnapped Mary in her sleep and held her hostage. So we killed him, found a portal deeper into the barrows and encountered real dead people!"

"But not dead like her, I assume?"

"Nah. Still nothing on that front. But we did find one thing." He nods to Mary who shows you a piece of paper with another word of power.

KYNE.

"Any idea what this does, chief."

"No, and I won't get to know until I get to kill another dragon. That's how I get these shouts down so fast. I take its knowledge upon its death."

"Oh so you're a thief? That's your big secret? And here I thought you were someone special."

"Your special skill is a leech."

"Shut up. You love it."

"Well regardless Dragonborn," the man who paid you 300 gold coins speaks up. "We are in your debt Dragonborn. If there is anything we can do to help you and these walking corpses, please let us know."

You grin. For the first time, you have some damn appreciation for your work! If this is the path you've chosen, you might as well take advantage of people's awe.

"Well actually, there's a lot we need. Any supplies you can afford. If you've got anything you can spare, we could use it."

"What are you thinking chief? Where are we going now?"

"Well, I've got a few ideas."

 


	9. Great Foundry

"Chief. Remind me to stop following you and your ideas."

"It's not entirely my idea. You said you wanted to stay away from Whiterun, and you agreed we could go to the college on the way."

"And I agreed to it. But why are we coming this way? Through fricking Windhelm!? Fortress of a guy I may or may not have bitten the finger off of!?"

"He can only take vengeance if he sees you. Which he won't."

"Oh yeah? How?"

You grin.

First impressions matter. Take you for example. Most people's first impression of you is that of a draugr coming to tear their head off. Fortunately, most have given you the chance to show that you have layers underneath. Morte by contrast has a first impression that causes people to recoil in disgust, which isn't helped by his constant perving. Your first impression of the companions by contrast was somewhat beneficial, until you learned about the giant rats in their midst. And your first impression and Ivarstead's of Stale Mary was similar to theirs of you. The point is first impressions are important to how you approach something or someone.

Your first impression of Windhelm is a city in dire need of a fixer upper. Black smoke rises from behind its walls. The walls themselves are cracked and could use some repair.

"It stinks."

You tap your sack. "Settle down in there. You're not alive anymore it shouldn't bother you."

"That doesn't mean I don't have nostrils chief. This place reeks. Kinda like its jarl."

"Maybe that's your own stench. After all when's the last time you bathed?"

"Women don't like that chief. They like that masculine musk! Mary got that!" He sighs. "We should've gone with her."

"She wanted to keep looking for sentient dead like her. And that's her choice. But we've got a job to do."

"Doesn't mean we can't have a little fun on the side. I mean when's the last time you ever had some fun with a chit?"

You think back on that section in your journal, detailing the women in your vision. Deionorra, was it?

"I can't recall, and we really don't have time for that."

"Oh, but we do have time to go wandering off to some college full of magic-wielding psychopaths? If we have time for that, you have time for the ladies. Trust me. They want it.

"Right."

"I mean it chief. You might not notice it, because you're as dumb as a rock. But I see the way they look at you once they see what's behind that scar tissue. They like what they see and they want a taste of you."

You snicker, trying to keep a straight face as you walk towards the front gate. The guards are checking out the cart in front of you, which is ridden by a pair of dark elves.

"So, skooma? You expect us to buy that maggots?"

"Maggots? No, no. Just parts for the foundry-"

The guard knocks the cart over, tumbling all the parts to the ground.

"That stuff's no good once it touches grey skin hand. Keep your shit out of our home, goddamn elves!"

You stare shocked as the elves run away scared and crying. The guard then beckons you forward.

"What's your purpose in Windhelm, Redguard? Hopefully you aren't wasting my time like those gray skins."

"We're on our way to Winterheld and just need a place to stay for the night."

The guard raises his eyebrow. "We?"

You pale. "I misspoke."

He's not fooled. "What's in that bag scarred man? Hopefully not more skooma. We've got enough of that."

You pause for a second thinking up a response. Morte thinks one quicker.

"Aye yeh wee loony lass! It be I, Talos himself! Yeh dare deny me own servant into e holy city! Let im pass, or suffer my wrath! Oh and, let those elves in! Skyrim needs all her children to drive out the damn dirty elves!"

"Yes of course, lord Talos! Right away! Quickly, let them and those grey skins through! We've got a war to win!"

You get through with the dark elves and their skooma. Morte floats out of the sack and you all laugh at.

"With guards, like that wonder why the empire needs an army," Morte wonders aloud. "I actually feel sorry for poor Ulfric, stuck with trash like that."

"Thank you both," one of the elves hugs you. "I admit you don't look like you're from around here. Guess you fit right in with us."

"You oughta stay away chit," Morte stares at her. "The nords don't fancy other races in their fancy schmancy cities."

"Where else can we go? Baator? We work the only way we can, in the foundry."

"Foundry? You're Godsmen?"

"I'm a godswoman. Name's Suvaris Atheron. I make tongs and hammers and stuff for the war effort. My brother, Aval is a pawnbroker and meat vendor. We've also got a brother outside the city, working as a farmer."

"You make weapons for the Stormcloaks? But they hate you!"

"It pays the bills," she shrugs. "Besides it's either that or get thrown out. Jarl Ulfric expects all children of Skyrim to contribute to its "salvation.""

"Ironic, considering that they don't see you as citizens."

"Yeah well, it's a living." She thinks. "Speaking of, you needed a place to spend the night yes? Why don't you come stay with us? We can house you for the night at least."

"Now that's what I like to hear! Hot date with a hot mama! Let's go chief!"

She gives you a strange look. You do the only thing you can do and shrug.

You turn the corner and find another dark elf knocking on a door to a house.

"Aventus! Aventus! Come out now! You can't stay in there forever!"

"Is he still in there Idesa? How long has it been?"

"Missing a lym-lym lady? I might be willing to find it." Morte looks her up and down and grins. "For a price."

"No! It's the Aretino boy! He won't come out! They say he's in there summoning the Dark Brotherhood, or some nonsense. Please do something!"

Suvaris frowns. "I already tried. He won't listen to me. Perhaps someone new should give it a chance."

"Allow me, my lady! This little ol skull will tear that little sucker a new one! All will fear the wrath of the mighty Morte!"

Everyone gives him the look.

"Why does nobody take me seriously?"

"I could go I guess. If he's into darkness and whatnot, he might listen to a zombie."

"Do be careful please," the elf Idesa insists. "He's not in a good place. Just please convince him to come out."

"Yeah sure. A big scary scarred black man is exactly what he needs! Go on in chief. I'm sure he'll be thrilled."

"I'm not scary," you mutter. Still you head on in.

The inside seems nice enough. Still, you've got that nasty feeling of dread again which no doubt has followed you around, even if you can't always remember it.

"Sweet mother, sweet mother. Send your child unto me for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear."

You don't ever remember having a mother, but you're pretty sure kids don't talk to them like that. The voice repeats as you head up the stairs.

Heading through a living room into another corridor, you see a boy at the end with a tail.

Is this the kid, or some kind of demon you wonder? You creep a little closer and see he's kneeling in front of a circle of candles. Leaning forward, you try to see what's in the circle.

Is that skeleton? You gasp. Which unfortunately is heard by the kid. He turns around. But instead of fear, there's joy on his face.

"You came! I knew you'd come, I just knew it!"

"Uh, do I know you?"

"Of course you do! I did the black sacrament over and over. And now here you are! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood!"

"Uh wait. What…"

"By god, look at you," he traces his fingers along your arm. "No wonder the Brotherhood chose you. You're the scariest looking man I've ever seen! Oh Grelod doesn't stand a chance!"

"Grelod….."

"The head of Honarhall. That orphanage in Riften, for tieflings like me. Parents don't generally want anything to do with those with demon blood."

"Tiefling…."

"Didn't you see my tail?" He waggles it.

"Right. Tiefling. Part fiend…."

"The mistress there is an evil woman named Grelod the Kind. But she's not kind. She's terrible. To all of us. I had to get away. But others are still there. You've got to save them! You've got to kill her!"

"Uhhhhhh… kill?"

"That's right! It's what assassins do! Oh thank you! Thank you so much! Oh wait until I tell the rest! They'll be so glad! Thank you! Thank you!"

"Wait…."

The boy goes charging past you down the stairs and out the door. You stand there shocked, even as the door opens back up and someone comes charging back up.

You hear a gasp not your own and finally turn to see Morte and Suvaris.

"Damn, chief. I know you've got anger issues, but what the hell did you do that guy?

"Uh… What do you know about the Dark Brotherhood?"

…

"Are you planning to leave today?"

You look up from your vegetable soup to Suvaris looking at you expectantly.

"I guess. I mean, if we want to reach Winterhold."

"The path there isn't safe you know. Especially now with the dragons. If you aren't well equipped, all sorts of fates could befall you."

"I don't know," Morte grins. "I think we've held out pretty well thus far. Besides I don't wanna run into the Jarl."

You think long and hard. "Smithing is out in the open. Not something I'd prefer to do. We'd like to keep a low profile."

She smiles "Then I think I've got the perfect idea. As reward for helping me, let me take you on an official tour of the foundry! As a Godswoman, I can get you day access. You can use the forges, make weapons, maybe even make some allies right here in Skyrim's oldest city."

"Are all the women there as pretty as you?"

"Well uh. I like to think, no one's as pretty as me. But there are some real lookers. Such as Sarossa. She can see into people's hearts."

"Oh hot mama!"

You roll your eyes. "Morte…"

With Morte in your bag, and a hood over your head, you follow Suvaris who pulls the cart from yesterday to the Forgery. You survey your surroundings. You aren't liking what you see.

The stench of smoke is in the air. You see people with yellow pussing sores coughing. The majority of them are dark elves and bariaurs. It's a fair difference from the mainly Nord populated epicenter of the town.

"This part of town is known as the Gray quarter. After the Red Mountain erupted and Dunmer and bariaurs poured in from Morrowind, there wasn't enough room for the population. So they pushed us here into this part of town, originally known as the snow quarter."

You make a face from the smell.

"Between the smoke and the apparent case of pus, it doesn't seem very homely."

"No that it is not. Yet no matter how many times we appeal to Jarl Ulfric, he doesn't heed us. Apparently, his revolution is for Nords only."

"This is why we can't get seen chief," Morte mutters from your bag. "With this guy, it's all Nords first. Everything comes second."

You find it hard to look. So you turn away. You can't help but wonder. If you defeat the dragons, will the world change or will this just go on as before?

You're interrupted from your thoughts by a man screaming at Suvaris.

"We don't want your kind here dark elves! You come here where you're not wanted, you eat our food, you pollute our city with your stink, and you refuse to help the Stormcloaks!"

"It's not our fight, Rolff! We have enough trouble keeping ourselves alive. Maybe if Jarl Ulfric helped us with the plague in our district-"

"You know what I think? I think you don't help because you're imperial spies!"

"You can't be serious! I am a godswoman! Why would I lower myself to serving those Thalmor!"

"They're elves too, ain't they? You're planning something, you must be!"

"Well I'm planning something too," you step forward to intervene. "I'm planning to sock you in the jaw if you don't get out of my friend's face."

"Oh yeah? And who are you to question me Redguard? For all I know, you're a spy too!"

You lean in close, deciding to take a page out of Morte's trash talking book.

"I can forge planes with my power. I can unmake you."

To your surprise, it seems to have some effect on him. He stumbles back unsure at your confidence. But one look at Suvaris reminds him who he is and he makes a move towards her.

One punch from you corrects that notion however and sends him falling to the ground. He looks up to you in shock.

"You think that was in jest. You challenge me, one with the fate of the world on his shoulders. And you challenge her, a Godswoman. One who challenges and betters herself every day while you mope about in the dirt, attacking those better than you. Begone worm, lest you dare face our true wrath."

This sends him scurrying away. You stare after him for a time. Then out of the corner of your eye, you see Suvaris watching you with something more than mere interest.

"Damn chief. You might make a fine Dragonborn yet."

"Indeed," Suvaris stares at you hard. "Wait, Dragonborn?"

"He means I would make a fine one, if I were one. Which obviously I'm not. The Dragonborn is probably on his way off to High Hrothgar to fight the dragons or something."

Morte gives you a look, but sighs, realizing you don't want to go bragging about that.

"Actually, I heard differently," Suvaris interjects. "I heard that the Dragonborn had already gone to High Hrothgar and saved the town of Ivarstead from a dragon attack."

"Is that so," you ask innocently so as not to give her any ideas. "I hadn't heard. Sounds like an impressive guy. And to think, I hadn't heard about him until half a month ago."

"And I hadn't heard of you until yesterday. But you've already made quite the impression yourself. You've driven off two thugs already! And the way you handle yourself! Remarkable."

Morte is grinning from ear to ear. He gives you a look again, when he notices a similar lack of excitement from you.

"Maybe you should have told him you're from the Dark Brotherhood chief. That would've sent him running."

"I'm not an assassin. Just because some kid asked me to murder someone…"

"Well, he did perform the black sacrament. And he handed the contract to you. I beat you're more up for the job than whoever he would've gotten otherwise."

You should probably say no. Instead, "hmm, maybe."

"Well, regardless," Suvaris again places her hand on your shoulder. She's awfully touchy sin't she? "You are a good man. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

You want to take her compliment. You want to believe that you're good. But you can't get this idea out of your head that says otherwise. What could it mean?

The rest of the trip passes by uneventfully. You walk through the Nord populated section, untainted by smoke or the yellow fever plaguing inhabitants of the Grey Quarter. You keep your head down and walk up to the massive gates of the Godsman Foundry.

"Suvaris," a heavily armed guard calls from the other side of the gates. "I see you've brought a friend with you."

"Two actually," she smiles at your bag. "I'd like two day passes. My friends here helped me bring these Dwemer parts into the city. I'd like to show them the finer parts of being a Godsman."

The guard looks confused. "Two? I assume the other is on his way?"

"No right here berk," Morte calls out from the bag.

The guard looks at the bag even more confused. Suvaris gives a somewhat embarrassed smile. "I'll show you inside."

He doesn't seem to get it, but lets you in regardless. As you walk through the gate, you receive two silver tokens. Afterwards, you help Suvaris pull the cart into the foundry, at which point Morte finally floats out.

"We've got to find a better means of stealth chief. I am not spending any more time in there."

"What would you recommend? Maybe a beard with a nice Stormcloak helmet?"

"How to disguise a skull. A worthy undertaking for a Godsman," Suvaris grins. "Mind helping me bring this Dwemer metal to the armoury?"

She pulls the hood off over the cart. On it you can see a variety of cogs, metal parts, and things you can't identify, but can tell are very different from any other kinds of metal you've seen.

"Dwemer metal," Morte looks over breathlessly. "Actual Dwemer metal. Aren't you worried about the risks?"

"Oh yes. But Godsmen are all about taking risks, making ourselves better. Without challenges, without constantly proving ourselves, we can't truly ascend to godhood."

"Godhood?"

She smiles at you, then begins to recite some kind of passage.

"All life springs from the same divine source, ascending and descending in form as the cosmos tests it."

"Ascending to Godhood," you ask skeptically. "Isn't that a bit of a stretch?"

"I don't know about that. Look at Talos. He was a man, but he rose to Godhood. Not because of divine intervention, but because of his character and struggles. He's the whole reason the Godsmen exist actually. He inspires us and everyone who knows his story to better ourselves."

"Talos worshippers," Morte muses. "I take it it's not a coincidence you're situated right next door to dear old Ulfric."

"The Godsmen have been here long before this civil war. I suppose we're just lucky to be in the same city as the side fighting for Talos. If we had been situated in Solitude, we might be forced to give up our hero in service to those other elves the Nords keep thinking we're aligned with."

"Sure doesn't seem like you're lucky. I mean, forced into slums with smoke and disease."

"Indeed. If the jarl just took some notice of our struggles…. We believe in the worship of Talos and all he stands for. Why don't we deserve some compassion?"

You have doubt. "But still, Talos was one in a million. I mean, making yourself better is certainly possible, but godhood?"

"I don't know," she smiles and places a hand on your arm. "You sounded pretty confident with Rolff out there. You might have a shot." With that, she begins picking up a handful of parts off the cart. "Mind giving me a hand here? We need to get these to the armory."

"Huh? Yeah sure. Let's go Mort- oh right. No hands."

"Ha, ha. At least you're getting your reward, right? More work."

"Oh, don't think of it as work. Think of it as training to make yourself better!" She gives you that strange smile again.

"Damn chief. I told you. You sure are popular."

"Popular? With these scars?"

"Appearance ain't everything chief. Sometimes force of personality matters more. You and me are in the same boat. Once they get past the outside, they're all over us."

"I don't know about that." You begin to move the parts towards the armory on the other side of the entrance room.

"Keep believing that chief. Keep believing it," Morte shakes his head.

At the entrance of the Armory a large grumpy old man watches you two approach. He holds his hand up to you.

"Sorry Suvaris. You know the deal. Only full-time Godsmen can enter the Armory. Can't risk him seeing the project."

"I understand." She turns to you. "Adahn, you can put your parts into that cart. They'll carry it in."

You put it in, and turn back to get the rest of the parts, ignoring the strange looks everyone gives you.

"Hey chief. She's looking at you right now."

"Not interested Morte."

"Seriously, chief? You decided to stay an extra day. You might as well get something out of it."

"And that you shall." Suvaris walks up to you with some extra Dwemer parts.

"As I said, you need a strong weapon to survive the roads. Strong metal and strong arms to wield it." She reaches out and gives your arm a squeeze. "You've got the arms. You just need the metal. And what metal could be stronger than Dwemer?"

"Well yeah. But metal alone won't cut it."

"Unless you cut it into a weapon. Like I said," she squeezes your arm again. "You've got the arms with which to make it. Come on. Let's get you saddled up and I'll show you."

She pulls you away to get a pair of gloves, a hammer, and some tongs, while Morte stares after you shaking his head.

"Goddamn chief. How did you survive this long by being so blind?"

After convincing the Godsman in storage that you are in fact not a zombie from the Dustman, you head back to the forges with the necessary equipment. Suvaris takes you over to the forge to make the object.

"I uh….. I don't really know how to use this."

"Not a problem. Allow me." She leans over your shoulder and places her hands on your arm.

"Let me show you." Manipulating your hands she begins hammering the metal.

"That's it just like that."

You try to ignore Morte's grinning idiotic face and just go with the flow.

"Does it hurt," the Dwemer whispers.

"No, no. Not at all. In fact it feels pretty good. It's like I've done this before."

"I'm sure you have. Strong man like you. No doubt you just need something to help you get back your rhythm."

You've begun to sweat all over. You can't tell if it's from the heat or…. Something else. You know without looking that virtually the entire forgery is looking at you with the elf all over your back.

"That's the spirit," she whispers leaning in closer. "The cosmos has tested you. I can tell from your scars. But you've risen above it all to be here today. The cosmos has tested you. And you have succeeded."

Is it getting hot in here? Or is it just you?

"The nature of man is inherently weak. And what can change the nature of a man? Torment. Weathering constant torment. Constant regret, loss. Pushing yourself to the limits. Ascendance."

As you feel your arms being manipulated you feel an odd sensation.

"Oh boy, another memory."

"Adahn are you ok? Adahn? Adahn!"

"Just like that my love. Your craftmanship is astounding."

You sigh. "You don't have to constantly shower me with praise Deionorra. And this is not astounding. It would be astounding were it another making it. But to me? It is average."

You throw away the mace you were making in annoyance.

"No matter how many times I try it, I just can't get it right. How am I to lead this world to salvation if I can't even get smithing right?"

"You will my love. You will." The Redguard woman steps forward and places her hands on your arms. "With time. All things take time. Just as it took time for you to win me over. Remember? You think our love would be so strong if it hadn't weathered so much?"

You look at the broken useless mace and sigh. "No. It takes time. But time we do not have. I will not live like an animal anymore. Won't allow you."

She smiles. You have her under your thumb still. Good. You still need her. When you don't? Who knows?

She picks up the mace and hands it back to you.

"Patience, my love. Patience. Everything is proceeding as I have foreseen."

That puts some hope back in you. And with hope as your guide, you bring the hammer down again.

Back in the real world, you find yourself surrounded by a circle of Godsmen who are all looking at you with some amount of awe. Looking down, you realize why. Somehow even in the thralls of whatever fantasy you were living, you had constructed a Dwemer mace, a pair of Dwemer boots, and Dwemer gloves!"

"Did we finally get through to you chief? We've been telling you to take a breath for at least half an hour."

"Yeah, but you kept on going," a Godsman says. "You were like a man possessed. I've never seen anything like it."

"Not a man," Suvaris says breathlessly. "A god."

Everyone is suddenly crowding in, trying to get a look at your work or get a look at you. Everyone is touching you, wondering if you're human or some kind of Draugr lord.

"Is it skooma? Is that the secret?"

"Are you part fiend? I hear they have more strength?"

"Are you edible? I'm kind of hungry. Mind if I try a bite?"

You yell in anger and pull back from the maniac who just bit you on the arm. While other Godsmen hold him back, you rush out of the crowd and towards someone on the edge.

"I need to wash up. Where the Johns?"

"The what?"

"The toilets. Where are they?"

"Oh. Well I've never heard of anyone call them Johns. Buit they're down that hallway over there."

"You joking? Everyone calls them Johns!"

"Well maybe in some other world, but not here."

"Seriously? You know what? Forget it."

You rush into the Johns, or toilets or whatever. You head into a stall and place your head in your hands.

"Chief? Chief! Get out here, will ya?"

You eventually come out to find him staring under a bathroom stall.

"This isn't the ladies' room you know. You don't wanna do that here."

"I was looking for you, berk!"

"Oh, well I'm flattered but I thought you were into women."

"Not like that!" You think he blushes, but can't tell. No skin.

"I saw what you made out there. When the hell did you become a top-notch smith? I haven't seen you use a single forge our whole time together!"

"I… I had visions. Memories."

"More memories. So you're an expert fighter and smith. And you just happen to remember them at the most convenient times to show off."

"Almost makes the journal pointless, I know. But I can't tell when they come. So it's not all that reliable."

"Well, all in all. I guess this hasn't been a total waste of time. We learned you're apparently a master at anything, we got some boss equipment, and you got a hot elf babe leering all over you."

"Morte…"

"Don't believe me? Come on out. I'll show you."

You walk out of the Johns/toilets and are forced to admit the skull might have a point. Suvaris is holding the fruits of your labor and grinning a little too widely for you comfort.

"Dwemer armaments. Less than a day here, and already you've ascended past any smith the foundry. You are a true Godsman in every meaning of the word."

"Well, uh. I confess it has its perks."

Her smile widens.

"But I can't stay here. I've got too much on my plate. And plus, I don't think the Jarl has much fondness for Redguards."

Her smile falters.

"But that's why we need to stick together. All of us! We don't ascend on our own. We get there on the backs of others!"

You pale. "I think that sounded better in your head."

"But not in your head, evil man." You turn to see a grey skinned woman staring at you with a determined look.

"Sarossa! You dare speak to our guest that way?"

"I speak that way to those whose spirits are smoldering embers. I see into this one's heart. I do not know his actions or his deeds. But I know where he walks, misery follows."

She turns to you. "Whatever you have planned for this foundry, stop it. Leave now. Godhood will never be yours."

"Enough! Out! Get out!" Suvaris pushes her away forcefully. "I don't care whose daughter you are! You do not talk to a hero that way!"

Hero. That word sticks in your mind as you stand there shocked. You sure don't feel like a hero right now. Sure don't feel like a Godman.

"Chief? Chief, you ok?"

"Don't listen to her," Suvaris grasps your hands in hers. "You are a hero. The blood of gods runs in you. You defended me from those racist pigs. That's more than anyone in this town has ever done for me."

You look into her eyes. She looks at you intently, and somewhat desperate.

"That hardly makes me a hero."

"It does! Outside of this foundry, no one in this town has ever stood up for me! The way you carry yourself, your power, your knowledge. I've never met anyone like you. I don't understand it, but for some reason, I'm drawn to you."

You stare back into her eyes for a time then finally sigh.

"You've known me for a day Suvaris. Or rather you've been with me for a day. Even I don't know myself. And the more I think I know, the less I like myself."

"But.."

"You said it yourself back at your house. That woman just know? She can see into our hearts. She looked into mine, and she didn't like what she saw. Why should anyone else?"

She pauses, unsure how to respond.

"Chief. Chief, don't say that. I've seen you."

"You mean you saw those Redguards try to off me? Promising revenge? Or you saw the mass of bodies I left in that cave? Is that what you saw?"

"Chief.."

"I've got it!" Suvaris suddenly speaks up. "I know how to prove you're a good person! We'll show you your dreams!"

You snort. "Not much prettier than me."

"No. One of our greatest creations. The Dreambuilder! It can literally show you your dreams. Just a drop of blood, and you can see what's truly inside. You can see the real you!"

"So… blood and guts?"

"Trust me! You want to see this! Come on!" She pulls your hand and leads you back towards the far side of the forgery, where Godsmen are still crowding around you.

"Dwemer metal. And with such skill…"

"Do they teach how to do that in Hammerfell? Maybe I should go there…."

"What's that thing bobbing after him? Is that the head of Vecna….."

"Bobbing!?" Morte whirls about. "Who said that? Who said bobbing!? I'll leave your head bobbing, you coward!"

The elf continues to pull you away towards a smaller door located next to the much larger door you could not pass through.

"Nihl! I've got another candidate!"

Candidate? What the hell does that mean?

"Not sure that's a good idea," the man before you looks you over. "I'd say all his dreams are nightmares he'd rather not revisit."

"He needs to see them, to have closure."

Actually, you'd rather have a beginning, but whatever.

"I have to say. He doesn't seem as eager as you. But to do this, I'll need him to scrape off some of his skin and blood into this vial."

You look at this disbelievingly then back to Suvaris. She just smiles and hands you a scalpel.

The things I do, you think as you grimace and scrape part of yourself into the vial. The guy takes it from you and places it into some kind of slot.

"All right. It's all set up. You can go in and see whatever is in there. Based on first appearances, I'd say it's not going to be pretty."

"Don't listen to that. I'm sure underneath it all, there's so much to see."

That's what worries you actually, but you can't tell her no and so you head on in.

Your first impression is that of a simple wooden room. Hardly something from out of a dream.

"DOVAHKIIN. IS THAT WHAT THEY CALL YOU? SUCH ARROGANCE. YOU ARE A BROKEN ONE. YOU AND ALL YOU MEET."

You don't have time to figure out where that voice is coming from before the room shifts and you find yourself standing in a vast desert. Scattered all around you are bodies of fellow Redguards. Their throats slit, holes through their chests. You know instantly you did this.

"HERO, THEY CALL YOU. DOES THIS SEEM THE WORK OF A HERO? WHO WOULD FOLLOW YOU AFTER SEEING WHAT YOU HAVE DONE?"

The room, dimension, shifts again. This time you're in a vast wasteland with a red sky looming overhead. At your feet lie more bodies. But this carnage is more varied. There are humans and elves khajit. But there are also other….things. Monsters. Beasts you've never seen. Or at least never remembered. Your hands bristle with power. You slayed them all. And you've never felt so alive doing it.

"I must admit, I never thought much of your kind. Who knew a little human had such potential?" You turn to see your master. Your master with his grotesque scales, and wings. "But I made quite the catch with you my friend. Where have you been all my life?" He smiles chillingly. "This is what you were made for my friend. Dominance."

"DOMINANCE. THE DESTINY OF ALL DOVA. THE DESTINY OF ALL WHOSE SPEECH CAN LEVEL MOUNTAINS, ARMIES, FAITH. BUT YOU ARE TOO BROKEN. SHATTERED."

That voice… It's like nothing you've ever heard. It shakes everything around you, nearly forces you to your knees with its immensity. What has that kind of power? To defeat you just with its voice? A dragon?

It shifts again, and this sight you do remember. You remember because you put this moment in the section labeled "DO NOT FORGET." You're standing back in that cave. The bodies piled around. A result of your recklessness with your companion given gift. And at the entrance to the cave stands Morte.

"Monster!"

"Morte…"

"No! Stay away! I can't believe I looked up to you! Trusted you! But you're just like the rest. Just like them all. A monster."

"THE SKULL KNOWS. HE HAS ALWAYS KNOWN SINCE YOU LET YOUR INNER NATURE OUT. DO NOT DENY WHAT YOU ARE. IT IS IN YOUR BLOOD."

No. Not a dragon. A god.

And once more the shift leaves you standing upon the mountain upon once which lay the monastery of the Greybeards. Now only a smoldering ruin remains, letting you see into the valley beyond. Fire. Smoke. You run to the other side and gaze upon Whiterun. Gone too. A charred wasteland and off in the distance in the sky, they circle overhead. They spit fire, let loose their shouts of unholy power. A challenge to all the planes and the lady herself.

"THIS IS NO LONGER A DREAM. THIS IS THE FUTURE AS YOU KNOW IT WILL BE."

On a ledge above you, the great black dragon stares at you. As you stare closer, you can make out a chink in his impregnable black armor. You squint harder. Branches?

"DEATH AND MISERY. THAT IS THE FATE OF ALL WHO FOLLOW YOU, BROKEN ONE. THIS IS MY MERCY TO THEM. SALVATION FROM YOUR SINS. THE DRAGON WITHIN YOU WILL PREVAIL. IT ALWAYS HAS. AFTER ALL," he opens his mouth. You see the fire coming. But you cannot move. Why should you? You deserve it.

"NOTHING CAN CHANGE THE NATURE OF A MAN."

You wake up as the dreams end. The boring wooden room you entered has taken on a sinister tone. You jump to your feet and rush to the door pounding.

"Suvaris! Suvaris, let me out!"

No response. You place your ear against the door. Outside, you hear what sounds like a scuffle. There is yelling. No one appears able to hear you.

In desperation, you resort to the dragon within you. You remember your shouts listed in your journal and shout, blowing the door wide open.

"I'm not a hero!" You charge out half sobbing from the visions you witnessed. "I'm not, Suvaris!"

"Adahn!"

"No! I don't want to hear it. I'm not a hero. I'm….. not."

"No. That you certainly are not. And you're no Godsman either." A Stormcloak guard walks forward and points his sword at your chest. "Are you, Dragonborn?"

The hall of the Forgery has become a lot more crowded since you entered that damn room. A battalion of Stormcloak guards stand with their weapons pointed at you. Two more have theirs pointed at Morte, and another has Suvaris in a chokehold.

"D-Dragonborn?" Suvaris finally stammers out. "Y-You?"

You look to the ground in shame and simply nod in reply.

"That's him all right." The woman who read your spirit (Sarossa, was it?) steps through the crowd and points at you.

"That's the monster."

…

As you thought yesterday, first impressions matter. Your first impression of Ulfric Stormcloak is that of a man comfortable in his own skin. One who carries himself well. A man who thinks highly of himself in every sense of the word. Your first impression of his right hand Galmar Stone-fist is that of a barbarian who is just aching to smash you with his hammer. Ulfric meanwhile gives more of an impression of a level-headed individual who is sizing you up

"You. The Dragonborn." He finally say, as if not fully believing it himself.

"Yes. Me the Dragonborn." He thinks on your answer for a bit. As if needing time to believe it.

"I have seen many things in my time. I've seen the wrath of fiends. Walked the plains of Bytopia. Even seen lord Bel himself. But in all these years, one thing I never thought I would see? The return of dragons. Yet, here they are. Raiding the land. Power to challenge the mightiest of Tanarri. And here are you. The Dragonborn. Mortal with the soul of a dragon. The chosen one. And the skull who denied my offer to save Skyrim. And thanked me by taking my finger."

He holds up his hand and indeed, his right hand is missing a finger. The middle one, which conveniently makes it hard for him to flip the bird.

"I told you Stormcloak. I want nothing to do with your little rebellion. I'm a free spirit. I've got places to go, women to court!"

"Women, like Gerdur of Riverwood?"

Morte blanches. You remember that name, as Morte can'ts top moaning about her.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh don't play dumb with me skull. I had a scout of mine follow you into the tunnels when you escaped Helgen. He followed you to Redwood and learned of your…..infatuation."

Morte is silent for a moment then speaks in a strained voice.

"Don't hurt her. You wouldn't. She believes in you."

"Yes. Belief. It is the strongest weapon in the multiverse. With it, one can forge planes, shatter armies, turn an entire species to your will. Belief is the strongest weapon of all. Gerdur believes in our cause. Therefore, if she must give her life to keep the dream alive, I'm sure she will do it willingly."

"Are you insane?" Morte lunges at him but is stopped by his right hand. "She's a Nord! I thought you at least cared about the children of Skyrim!"

"You question my love? My commitment!? You doubt why I fight!?" He stands up from his throne in anger.

"I fight for the men I've held in my arms, dying on foreign soil! I fight for their wives and children, whose names I heard whispered in their last breath. I fight for we few who did come home, only to find our country full of strangers wearing familiar faces. I fight for my people impoverished to pay the debts of an Empire too weak to rule them, yet brands them criminals for wanting to rule themselves! I fight so that all the fighting I've already done hasn't been for nothing! I fight... because I must."

Morte snickers. "You really think highly of yourself, dontcha? Acting if this war is the center of the planes, when on every other plane in existence you've got fiends fighting on a scale we can't imagine. You really think what you're doing here matters at all?"

"It matters for the survival of Skyrim!" Ulfric rises to his feet in anger, staring the skull down hard. "We don't all have the leisure to come and go as we please! We both left the Greybeards, but you went chasing after tavern wenches! I left to make Skyrim great again!"

You look to Morte at this claim of him being associated with the Greybeards, but he doesn't notice your confusion, remaining too focused on the Jarl. You finally decide to speak up.

"What about the Dwemer?"

Ulfric looks at you for clarification.

"That Dwemer woman… She's been assaulted twice by Nord men since we got here. You keep them and the Bariaur in slums which you flood with smoke. And what about the plague?"

Ulfric stares at you for a bit then speaks again, sounding almost remorseful.

"I have made efforts to change the fortunes of the refugees. But this war is everything right now. Until the Thalmor are driven out of our home, I must devote all my attention to this cause."

Morte rolls his eyes.

"You aren't listening you snow prince. This cause you've got going on? It's blink in the eye compared to what's being waged beyond this little plane. The blood war is out there, just waiting to spill here. Not to mention the frigging dragons tearing this place up!"

"That's all the more reason I need you, as appalling as that idea is to me." He walks down from his throne and stands in front of you. "The empire is weak. They bowed before the Thalmor. What do you think's going to happen when the baatezu or tanar'ri come knocking? We need strong leaders who won't bow down before someone who offers us nothing but servitude! As for the dragons well," he looks at you. "That's where you come in isn't it?"

"How did you know I was the Dragonborn?"

"That dragon returning was one sign. Saved you from the block as I recall. Ironic, no? When the Greybeards shouted for you, I immediately sent scouts to the base of the mountain to watch for anyone heading up the mountain. And once you defeated that dragon, they let me know about "a scarred man beating the crap out of a dragon." I still didn't think it would be you."

"Well, you're in luck berk. The chief and I are already on our way to defeating the dragons. If you'll let us go, we'll be on our way."

"I can't allow that Morte. The Dragonborn must fight alongside to cleanse the land of these creatures. With his power and your shouts, we can bring justice back to this land, and unite Skyrim against the evil that lurks in the lower planes."

It's your turn to smirk. "You really believe in yourself."

"Oh, don't you know? Belief is the greatest power in the planes. As long as we can make the children of Skyrim believe that they can survive, they will survive against whatever comes our way."

Morte groans. "And you believe that Gerdur dying is an acceptable price?"

"She doesn't need to die at all. I need your skills and friend here Morte. It would be the first selfless thing you have ever done in your afterlife. I imagine she'd be very impressed, don't you?"

That does make Morte pause for a second, until he regains his senses and lashes back out.

"You're no better than the empire, you cowardly hypocrite! No real champion of the people would threaten one of his own like that! I wish that dragon had burned you back in Helgen!"

Ulfric sighs. "I do not have time for your immaturity Morte. I recognize the necessity to address the larger issue of immortal monsters. But we cannot do so with incompetent cowardly leaders who kneel down to them!"

"And you," you speak again. "You think you can face them?"

"I know I can."

As if in direct challenge, a roar comes from outside. Everyone within looks at each other.

"Well," Morte grins. "Looks like you got your chance to prove it!"

He frowns but to his credit does not show any fear and turns to his right hand.

"Ready the troops. It's time to show Skyrim we mean business." He turns back to you. "And it's time to prove you are in fact the Dragonborn. We will discuss your loyalty afterwards."

"Sure thing fingerless. Come on chief. We got an ungrateful king to save!"

You turn around and run outside. Already the guards are mobilizing and helping the Nords into safe houses. To your disappointment however, they do not appear to be doing the same for the Dwemer or Bariaurs.

"Sad isn't it?" You turn and find to your surprise Suvaris standing there with what appears to be the Dwemer equipment you made. She stares at the surrounding chaos with sadness.

"Suvaris…"

"Even in times of distress, they find a way to overlook us and focus on their own. Even as we build their weapons and give our sweat and tears to their cause, they ignore us." She looks to you and walks your way.

"But that is the way of Godsmen, isn't it? To weather all the challenges the planes force our way. To endure the storm, and emerge on the other side stronger and better. As you have done. Those scars are testament."

"Suvaris. I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry for what? That you refused my offer to join the foundry? That you held the truth of your destiny from me? That the path you walk offers room for no one else?" She lays a hand on your shoulder, tracing the scars up to your face.

"I cannot forgive you, for there is nothing to forgive. You have a destiny too grand for any of us. It was not your duty to share it with us." She sighs and backs up. "For what it's worth, you'll make a great Godsman."

"Will? But you said it yourself. I can't stay here."

She chuckles. "You don't need to join the foundry to be a Godsman. You prove it through your continued struggle and commitment. You don't learn that in a forgery. You learn it out there."

She hands you your equipment. "The fruits of your labor. Proof of your skill and Godsman status." She then leans forward and gives you a quick peck on the cheek.

Morte whistles while you flush bright red. She meanwhile has one last thing to say.

"Remember what I told you? What can change the nature of a man?"

Your poor memory for once works.

"Torment. Weathering constant torment. Constant regret, loss. Pushing yourself to the limits. Ascendance."

She smiles. "Then go out there and prove it. Kick that bastard's ass, get out of here and ascend, Dragonborn."

You take this moment to equip your new tools. You take one last look at her, give her a nod and rush outside the city where you hear the beast shouting.

"Told ya, she was into you."

"Stow it Morte."

Outside, you see the guards shooting all they can at the dova as it flies overhead. The jarl himself stands at the front of the pack, shouting orders.

"Say what you want about Ulfy," Morte begrudgingly admits. "He walks the walk."

The monster is moving too fast for arrows. You need to get it to stop.

"Morte, can you get its attention, piss it off?"

He grins and shouts upward. "Hey dumbfuck! Are those wings a size twelve?"

Somehow that appears to upset it. You don't get why. It really wasn't that offensive, but it gets under the dragon's skin and sends it flying down towards you.

You hold Morte under one arm and steady yourself. Just as it's upon you, you jump grab onto its head. It roars out in shock and pain as you drive your mace into one of its eyes and it flies back into the sky with you two as unwilling passengers.

"Wait!" Ulfric Stormcloak shouts out to you. But it's too late, you're already taking into the sky, your mace stuck in the dragon's eye, making its flight patterns all the more erratic.

"Looks like we're heading north," Morte yells over the noise.

"That's where the college is, right? Guess we'll get there a lot faster than we thought!"

The dragon has other ideas however and lets loose a burst of flame which causes you to fall backwards, your mace pulled out of its eye.

You manage to grab onto a scale, but Morte is not so lucky. He's clinging onto the tail, doing all he can to not fall off.

"Hang on Morte! I'll- No!"

Your journal. The lifeblood of your entire journey comes loose from your pocket and goes flying towards the rear of the beast. Morte's eyes widen and he releases his jaws to grab it. He does, but his eyes widen again as he remembers the main reason he needs you at all.

No hands.

"Morte!" You reach out for the closest thing you have to a friend. But to no use as he goes sailing off into the horizon. You stare shocked then determined crawl your way back to the front of the creature.

You need to end this now. You let loose a breath of fire. While it roars in agony, you drive your mace into its other eye, effectively blinding it.

The great blind beast tumbles towards the earth. You see its destination. The peak of a mountain.

"Oh shit."

Of all the ways to go, getting impaled by a mountain does not sound like a neat one. At the last second just before you, impact you jump off, hitting the snow and tumbling down the mountain side.

As you tumble, you can see the dragon screaming out its last breaths with the mountain top through its chest. Even as the distance between you increases, you can feel its knowledge of Kyrne's peace slip into you. Not that it matters. Without Morte and the journal, you're lost.

BROKEN. That sounds more appropriate.

You finally stop tumbling. Weary, you pull yourself up and survey your surroundings. The blizzard here is strong. The temperature is near freezing. If you remain, you'll freeze.

"Need to find Morte. College. Journal." Your teeth begin to chatter.

You walk. You're not sure where exactly. You just need to find something, anything. You go on what must be 2 hours. Night is falling. You need to get indoors.

"Torment. Weathering constant torment. Constant regret, loss. Pushing yourself to the limits. Ascendance. That's what makes a Godsman."

You keep repeating Suvaris' words to you about torment and destiny. You're the Dragonborn, damn it! If you die, it sure as hell isn't going to be as a popsicle!

Aw, who are you kidding? You fall to your knees. It's too cold. You can't fight that. It's too damn much.

You collapse, Suvaris' words ringing in your ears. The wind picks up. Through it all, you hear footsteps in the snow. Something approaching.

Tilting your head up, you make a figure out through the snow. As your eyes close, you hear that voice again, taunting you with its truth.

"NOTHING CAN CHANGE THE NATURE OF A MAN."

 


	10. Winterhold

It's like you're being born, waking up. You remember nothing before you open your eyes. All you know is what is happening now. You're sore as hell, you feel scars all over your body…. And some big square jawed guy is beaming at you.

"You're awake! Oh, thank the Lady! You're awake. They thought I was bringing in a corpse! A corpse! Well, ok. I suppose I can't fault them for thinking that. But still! Alive you are! And here you are!"

"Where…. Where is here?"

"The inn in Winterhold. Found you lying facedown in the snow outside of town, muttering something about a skull. Well, today's your lucky day. Because guess what? I. HAVE. A. SKULL!"

You look at him bizarrely. Of all the people to find you….

"Listen, can you…. Help me? I don't remember who I am."

"Amnesia? Well then you've come to the right place friend! For Winterhold is not just any ordinary town I tell you. But home to the infamous…. COLLEGE. OF. WINTERHOLD!"

"College," you sniff put off by this guy's loudness.

"That's right! The College of Winterhold! The greatest magical university in all of the Tamriel plane. Started in… Well actually I don't remember that. But it was founded by…. Well I don't remember that either. Some hag or something. But it has quite a long history….. Which I don't remember. Ok! So, I'm a little fuzzy on the where and whens. But the whats! Oh let me tell you about the whats…."

"It's ok. Uh…. Sir?"

"Hamrys. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, the whats! Anyway, this college has the greatest of all magical training in the entire plane of Tamriel. I hear it's even respected by members of the upper planes! But anyway. It's not the history, mate! Don't let the history put you off. It's the whats! The whats!"

"The whats," you repeat, not sure where this is going.

"The whats! The magic! The means by which they apply it to everything. First they find out what your aptitude is, then they push you in that direction! Me, my specialty is conjuration. I summon the little guys up wherever I go! To fight, to frolic, or even just to chat! My favorite, is Dimtree! Oh, let me tell you about Dimtree…"

"That's ok, Hamrys. I think I'll be going now." You get up, but he's still talking.

"Dimtree is a fiend of some sort. I can only summon him a limited number of times per day. But I tell you, he is the best! Listens to everything! When there's someone I need to talk to. When I'm out there in the wilderness, alone and naked. He's there. Never misses a beat! What better friend could a mage ask for?"

The door is locked. You assume Hamrys has the key. But he's still talking.

"I've also got another atronach. But he's a fire atronach. I call him Pa. After my old man, I suppose. I don't summon him as much, but I sure get an earful if you know what I mean! And by that I mean, he doesn't talk because he's an atronach, you know? So I guess I don't get an earful. But still. He plays hard to get, you know?"

"Hamrys!" You interrupt before he goes on any further. "As interesting as all this is, I'd like to go to this college. If they can help me with memory problems, I'd like them to fix it as soon as possible."

Hamrys pauses, stunned from your interruption. But he quickly resigns and opens the door. You head downstairs and outside.

"Hang on, mate! Don't you want some breakfast or something?"

"Not hungry. Let's just get this over with."

He smirks. "Aww. A little grouchy, are we? You know, I've heard of a spell that might help with that. I think it was called the swarm curse. No wait that's not right. Maybe chromatic orb? No, no. That's stupid. Infernal abyss?"

You sigh, seeing he's gone off on another rant and head for the large building you see off in the distance. People keep a healthy distance from you, giving you a wide-eyed stare of horror. It makes you wonder about your appearance.

As you approach the gate, you see an old rather frail woman. She's not looking at you. You wonder if she's blind.

"Hey Hamrys," you whisper. "I don't think she can see us. Let's sneak on by."

"Oh, yeh think yeh can outwit Mebbeth, do yeh whippersnapper?"

You both jump in surprise. The old woman is looking your way.

"I may be old and blind, but I've got me ears. No one gets into the college without my say so. Hasn't been one for some time, but my job remains."

"And that job is?"

"I decide who gets in and who doesn't. Don't let in just anybody, do I. No. Yeh got to show you're worth the time. So far, I ain't that impressed."

That's a bruise to your ego. But you take it. At least she isn't recoiling from you.

"What can we do to change your mind?"

"I can already prove it! Dimtree, come forth!" Hamrys casts some kind of purple light which forms what appears to be some kind of portal. It dissipates and left standing in its place is a towering figure with thick skin and long tusks.

"This is Winterhold, Dimtree! And this here is my new friend! Don't worry, you're still my best! Careful though. He might prove some competition."

The beast looks towards you. It's hard to make out its expression, but you think it's looking at you with plea.

"Well, well. That's quite a presence I feel," Mebbeth mutters. "Yeh really did it didn't yeh? Summoned a goddamn fiend! Well I guess you're in." She turns to you.

"What about yeh, eh child? What have yeh got?"

"Uh, well, uh…"

"Gotta say child, my impression about yeh ain't improving. If you can't think of anything, here. Summon a flame atronach. That takes some skill."

You're just winging it at this point. But you open the scroll she hands you and look inside.

Somehow, the words inside are familiar. You know them, and follow their instructions.

From out of another portal comes a figure shrouded in flames.

"Well hot damn child! Guess you're good for something after all. Maybe, you'll bring something to us in the end."

"Uh, right. Say, if this is a college, do we need any supplies?"

"Oh, just a spell book, child. We'll take care of the rest."

"I don't have one."

"Whaaaaaa? You don't have a book? How did you know to cast that spell then?"

"I just… did."

"Well aren't you the mighty overachiever? I can't let you up there without a book to write your spells in! Guess you'll have to go get one, but I don't know of any place in town that sells them anymore. Scared o' magic, the cowards. Guess you'll have to make a new one. Go into town and get some black barbed seeds from one of the vines."

"Another quest. Sounds like a quest for Hamrys! Let's go old friend!"

"No!" You cannot stand his talking anymore. "No, I'm fine. You've already proven your worth. You go on ahead."

"Are you sure! I might direct you to a fine coffin pillow. I hear they're-"

"I'll be fine! Go! Go! I'll see you up there!"

"Well, if you insist. Come on, Dimtree! I can't wait to introduce you to the other students!"

He heads up the hill with the fiend behind him, who stares at you, seemingly begging you to free him from his torment. You ignore its desperate eyes and head back into town.

You walk past the inn you had stayed at the night before and notice a bundle of the vines, you assume Mebbeth had referred to. You pull off a bunch, but it doesn't look enough.

"Those seeds, look a bit…. Frail."

An old man looks at your bundle somewhat sadly, before turning back to look at the clump of deed trees before him.

"Yeah, I guess so. Those trees don't look so good either."

"Indeed. No one cares."

"I guess no one has time to water them."

"Oh, it's not water that's the problem. It's the belief. No one cares."

"Don't follow."

"No one cares for the trees. There's no belief or will for them to grow. Therefore, they won't grow. I suspect the same problem exists for those seeds. None care for or belief in their purpose. Thus, they do not grow."

You snort. "What are you saying? That if enough people cared about these plants, they'd grow?"

"Yes! Yes, all you have to do is care. If everyone cared for them, they would blossom."

"Doesn't that sound a bit farfetched?"

"In a town with magic, including a man on fire? I'd say it's one of the least bizarre things you could imagine."

You shake your head, but decide to entertain him. You look at the seeds in your hand. You try to care about them. So far, unsuccessfully.

"You think it, but you do not truly care. You must want this. You must care about their fate."

Well this guy isn't crazy or anything, you think to yourself. But you give it another go. You focus on the brambles. Put all the care you've mustered over this one day into this bundle of seeds. You focus. Focus. Believe….

And by whoever the Lady is, it works! The seeds spring out into what appears to be some kind of necklace.

"What is this? Magic?"

"No, by no means no. Belief is its own kind of power, the greatest on the planes. There's nothing that can't be done if enough people believe in it. Like," he gestures towards the trees. "Trees."

You nod, now convinced and focus on the trees with the same intent you did with the seeds. You take a second look and see they look a little healthier.

"No flowers?"

"Not with this much snow around, no. But you have made it look a little healthier. For that I thank you."

"To think, you could do this with belief. Unbelievable."

"No. Believable." He smiles.

You walk back to Mebbeth. You start to move slower and quitter, wondering if you can try to sneak past her this time.

"Nice try, child. But even if yeh got past me, yeh couldn't get through the portal at the top."

"Damn. Should have waited and saw how Hamrys did it. Here's your seed necklace."

"Oh that's great of yeh child, but just after yeh left, I remembered we need something else. My laundry."

"Your… laundry? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?"

"No, I am not kidding. If yeh wanna get in there, yeh need to make a good impression. It's over at the marketplace. Some Redguard lad's got it I think. Another Redguard! Not you. Now scoot! I need time to make a binder!"

"A binder? Out of seeds?"

"Welcome to Winterhold, lad." She grins.

You groan but head back into town. You chat up the belief guy who's still staring at the trees. He points you in the right direction without even taking his eyes off them.

The market is kind of pathetic (like everything in this town, you think to yourself). It's a few stands, symblematic of a town desperately struggling to stay alive.

You wander past the many stalls and their odd offerings. More of those barbed seeds, organs…. Gear spirits? What the hell's a gear spirit?

Given you have no memory before this day, you have no idea what a Redguard looks like. You do know you have dreads however and look for anyone with those. You eventually do see one, hunched over with his back to you.

"I'm here for Mebbeth's laundry."

"Why's that," he murmurs back. "You don't sound like Mebbeth."

"She's getting old and told me to pick it up. Plus, she can't see."

"Well I suppose that's a benefit, because there were some complications."

"I'm just here to get them, that's it. If they don't fit, that's her problem."

"Well that makes both our jobs easier." He turns around with a bundle in his hand, but with one glance at you, nearly drops it.

"You…. Seem familiar."

"Oh? Apparently, I'm a Redguard myself. So, I guess I might."

His eyes narrow.

"So, we weren't friends I take it?"

He shoves the clothes into your hands and immediately walks away.

"Hey wait a minute," the clothes feel a little bit…. Weird. "What the hell did you do to these clothes?"

He continues to walk away though, shooting a worried look over his shoulder back at you.

You shrug and make your way back to Mebbeth.

"Here's your clothes. Can I go up now?"

"These are my clothes? What'd yeh do to them, yeh bumbling lummox?"

"Ask that Redguard guy. He's got issues. Took one look at me and left."

She sighs, then suddenly thinks for a second and smiles.

"These might actually be beneficial to yeh. Guess it wasn't a waste after all. Just one last thing and yeh can head on up."

"Again? Why couldn't you tell me this before?"

"Oh, hush child! The exercise'll do yeh good. Besides, if yeh're complaining now, yeh really think yeh're going to last up there?"

You grumble and stamp your feet in a minor tantrum.

"Feeling better? Good. I believe yeh can pick up a bottle Brogata-Fin ink from the Smoldering Corpse bar. Here's a few coins for it. Go get it and don't dawdle in there too long. That place attracts bad people.

"How do I find it?"

She grins. "Follow the heat."

Follow the heat? In this place?

Actually, that isn't so hard. The heat is coming a massive structure in the center of town. Behind the large wooden doors, you can feel the warmth.

You go in, almost expecting the place to be on fire. What you find is even stranger. Inside, you are greeted by a large room with tables on either side. These tables are loaded with the kind of characters you'd find in a fairy tale book. And in the middle, the floor takes on a red grill shade. Floating above it in the center….. is a man on fire?

"Welcome to the Smoldering Corpse Bar, scarred man." A woman walks up to you. She might have been beautiful once. But those days are long past.

"Smoldering Corpse Bar. I take it that has something to do with the smoldering corpse there?"

Her eyes take on a fiery, passionate glare, then quickly die back down.

"Yes, that's right. The…. Corpse. I assure you however, that is no corpse. He's just sleeping."

You raise an eyebrow, but decide not to press it.

"This place is quite crowded."

"Oh yes. Biggest source of income in the entire city. Pretty much the only thing that keeps this town going is…. him."

You can't help but notice how achingly she says that last part.

"You know who he is?"

She pauses for a long moment.

"Everyone knows of him. Ignus, the greatest mage to ever come out of that slimy little college up the hill."

"Can you be more specific? What happened to him to make him that way?"

She pauses. She looks like she wants to say more, but she stops herself and turns away. You see her shoulders heave. You think she's crying.

"Ooooookkkkkkkkk. I'll just leave you alone."

You head up to the counter, eager to get out of this nuthouse. Even if you fit in here more than outside. Unfortunately, you now have a new problem. The bartender is a douche!

"300 coins for a bottle of ink? Are you f*ing me?"

"We've got ourselves a fine institution here, berk. It takes a lot to run this place. 300 coins. No lower."

"Now that's no way to treat a man of such stature, is it?"

A scaly creature with wings walks up to the counter. It lays down a bag of coins and gives you what you assume is a smile.

"What's a fine devil like yourself doing here? With scars like that, I would assume you'd be far away in some outer plane, battling Tan'arri. Not picking up fish ink! It's beneath someone like you!"

"Right," you really don't know how to respond to that. "Thanks for the gold. I'll be off now."

"Whoa. Whoa. Hold on there, scar face. I paid a lot for that. The least you can do is tell me what you're doing with it. Are you planning some sort of raid for Lord Bel?"

You find yourself again unsure how to respond. "I uh….. They need it for the college."

The whole bar goes silent. Except for the flames surrounding the smoldering corpse floating in the center.

"You go the college?" The bartender turns away. "Then take the ink and get lost. And may you suffer the same fate as this town."

"Uh… thanks?"

"I'm serious, berk. They'll peel you apart and floss your insides. Then they'll leave you a walking corps-. Actually, I guess somebody beat you to that."

"College eh?" The scaly creature grins. "Well give a big hello to Ancano won't you? Tell him his friend is still here waiting."

"Right. Sure thing," you say not expecting to keep that promise. If anything, you're more likely to ask this Ancano guy how he knows a monster like this!

You finally mercifully get out. Or are on your way to do so anyway. But the woman from before steps in front of you.

"You're from the college?"

"Applying."

She leans in close.

"Then please, if you can. Find some way to bring him back. Please, they made him this way. They owe it to him. Please. Find a way to bring my beloved Ignus back."

Right. Sure thing," you say not expecting to keep that promise either. If anything, you're more likely to ask if everyone in this town is insane.

You rush back to the college, ignoring the band of Redguards who have taken notice of you.

"Hey! Old woman! I got your damn ink! Can I go in now?"

"Huh? Oh, it's yeh child. First things first. The ink."

You hand the ink over. She takes what appears to be a binder and uses the ink to seemingly glue it together.

"Wait. Is that your laundry?"

"Aye. And the black barbed seeds. I was going to use a regular binder. But then I figured, who's going to wear these clothes anyway?" She hands you the resulting parchment.

"And here's yeh're magic book! Along with the fire atronach already in there! I also gave yeh a nice section to write down yehre memories. Seeing how yeh've got memory problems. With this, yeh have a place in the college. Just head up the stairs and cast another atronach at the top to get in. Head to the hall of the elements, the big door on the other side of the courtyard when you enter. You should find Quill there giving the runts their first lesson right about now. Now get going yeh whippersnapper! I've got snow to watch!"

"You can't watch anything you old bat," you mutter.

"I heard that!"

….

You head through the portal into a courtyard covered in snow and trees. You walk across the courtyard through the big door that old woman told you to go through.

The hall of the elements as she called it is a large room surrounded by pillars with something in the center that looks like a well spouting blue mystical beam. On the other side of this well thing, you see a number of what you assume are students listening to a bearded old man in a ridiculous blue suit. He appears to be giving a lecture while simultaneously chewing on a piece of chocolate.

"J'zargo wishes to display his skill, sir." A literal walking talking cat stares at the wizard with some annoyance, tapping his feet impatiently.

"Seriously, how long do we have to wait for you to finish that damn chocolate?" A Dunmer looks equally impatient.

"Watch your tone youngsters! First rule in the pursuit of magic is respect your betters! And that means giving them a break from getting you past level one!"

"You are Jzargo's better? He doubts that very much."

The mage looks towards the cat in annoyance and looks ready to bite his ear off again. However, you choose that exact moment to intervene.

"Excuse me."

"Ggggggaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!" You take the mage by surprise and he drops his chocolate on the ground. Everything goes silent for a second.

"Buddy!" You see to your dismay that Hamrys is here as well.

"You!" The mage suddenly lashes out. "You cost me my chocolate! How dare you filthy zombie! I demand repentance now!"

"Quill!" A woman walks in hurriedly. "Calm yourself! Is this the impression you want to give of the college?"

"I will not take such disrespect from my pupils! And this…. Thing isn't even a pupil! How did he get past Mebbeth!?"

"She let me in. I passed the test."

"That's right sir," Hamrys leaps in. "I found him outside of town, all frozen and cold. He walked with me to the entrance."

"So he's with you? Please explain how the standards of this college have fallen so far!?"

"Well, to be frank sir, your standards have fallen somewhat since the burning of the city by Ignus. Thus, you've had to somewhat lessen the standards to make up for your smaller numbers. For what it's worth, I think it's great that you're still standing after all this time. I really appreciate all your works and trades. I love magic more than anything. Especially the celestial host spell. I've seen it done only once but….."

"Oh for the Lady's sake stop talking! No wonder we've fallen so far to recruit fools like this!"

"Enough Quill!" The woman intervenes. "It's fools like you that give us a bad reputation!" She looks towards you.

"I apologize for this outburst. I assure you no other teacher is this way."

"You're apologizing to him! Look what he did to my chocolate!"

"One more word, and I'll have you expelled! Got it?"

This shut the mage up. He opened his mouth, but then thought better of it and turned back to the other students.

"Well class. It looks like our discussion is over. I was going to discuss about wards but thanks to…" He flashes you a dirty look. "In any case, we'll have an opportunity to test your knowledge soon enough. Only the best make it into Winterhold. And I don't care what old Mebbeth thinks of you. You'll have to prove it. We head off to the ancient tomb of Saarthal tomorrow morning. And you know what that means."

"Fiends," the Dunmer mutters. "Isn't that too risky?"

"Not to worry. We have a…. pact of sort. We have been working together to unearth these ruins for some time. Besides they wish to take note of all mages. If you want to really understand magic, they can teach you much…. At a price."

"Very well Quill. Students you are dismissed. Hamrys, you seem familiar with our newest student. Why don't you show him to his quarters and then… maybe some medical aid?" She gestures towards your scars.

"Eh, sure. Before you ask, I haven't a clue how I got them."

"Yes well, one can only hope," she smiles sympathetically and walks away.

You follow the students and Hamrys to the dorms, trying your best to block out his obnoxious chatter with a fellow mage in pink.

"And I dragged his scarred ass all the way here. With my own bare hands! That's the work of a coffin maker for you!"

The mage giggles. "You are quite amazing. But a coffin maker? Surely you don't want people to think so lowly of you?"

"Lowly? I'll have you know my father was a coffin maker, and his father before him, and his father before him, and his father before him, and his father before him, and his father before him, and his father before him, and his father before him, and his father before him…."

While Hamrys is going into another rant, she leans over and stares at your scars.

"That's quite the artistry someone's done to you," she mutters poking them.

"Hands off!"

She jumps backward.

"Oh, I'm sorry! It doesn't hurt does it?"

"No. But all the same there's something called personal space. So do you mind?"

"Oh of course! But tell me. You say you don't remember how you got them?"

"I don't remember anything. Not even my own name."

"Amnesia?" She looks shaken, before she jumps up and down with glee. "That's amazing!"

"Eh?"

"Drama, sugar deprival, and an amnesiac zombie! Oh, I knew I was right to leave the Festhall!"

"Festhall?" The walking cat looks backwards in surprise. "You do not mean to tell J'zargo that you are one of those annoying sensates?"

"Oh yes! But one can only experience so much in Solitude! And where is there more sensation than in magic?"

"J'zargo traveled with a sensate once. He was very strange. He asked J'zargo to break his ankle once so he could experience pain."

"And his father before him, and his father before him, and his father before him, and his father before him.."

"Sounds like he would've fit right in with this crowd," the Dunmer butts in. "Bunch of nuts. Sending us off to work with the frigging Baatezu!"

"It is quite common for mages to work with fiends in magical pursuits. J'zargo thought you would have known that."

"That doesn't mean they should! I come from Morrowind! I deal with those things all the time! No good comes from making a deal with them! They sucker you in and don't let you go! Before you know it, you're a lemure on the front lines of a Baatezu army!"

"Oh, that's just part of the experience Brely," the mage in pink assures the Dunmer, to which she looks at her like she's talking to a nutso. Which actually isn't too far from the truth you think.

"And his father before him, and his father before him, and his father before him, and his father before him, and his father before him, and his father before him…."

"Be silent! J'zargo has heard enough of your rambling. We are here."

"Huh? Oh right! Welcome to your new home buddy!"

Your new "home" is a set of rooms each with a bed and wardrobe within. You pick the one closest to the door so you can flee if Hamrys goes off about damn coffins again.

"Excuse me?" You look up to see the pink mage standing over you again.

"I know you want some privacy. But could I take a look at you all the same? I might be able to offer some advice."

Given this place has felt more like an asylum than a college, you're hesitant to let anyone touch you. But well…

She takes your silence as a yes and begins to rub her hands all over you, emitting a strange light.

"Well some scars I can remove. But most. That's another story. These aren't regular injuries."

"I figured. Any idea what gave me them?"

"Items of a magical nature. Others perhaps by magical creatures. I see teeth marks, blades, all varieties. I don't know how you can even walk."

"Pain's an old friend apparently," you grumble and began to feel lightheaded. It's been a long day. Running all over town to fetch that crazy hag's groceries, pissing off your teacher and sharing a dorm with overeager wackos.

"Say," her eyes light up. "I have an idea of what may have given you those scars. And if I'm right, where we're going tomorrow might provide some answers."

"Tomorrow? Oh right," you yawn. "Shawarma or something…"

"What? No, Saarthal. Hello? Sweetie?"

But you're already falling asleep to the sounds of the sensate or whatever poking you and Hamrys muttering, "and his father before him, and his father before him…."

….

"Where the f*k am I!?" You're in an unknown place with a bunch of freaks and a whole lot of glowy lights.

"That's funny buddy but now's not the time for that. We need to get going. I want to spend some time with Dimtree later today."

"J'zargo does not think he is joking." You recoil from a walking cat man with a hood.

"What the frigging hell!?"

"Are you ok sweetie?" A woman mage in pink looks at you concerned.

"That's the spirit buddy!" A big square jawed guy is practically bouncing on his toes. "Humor will serve you well where we're going."

"Going? Going where?"

"Where else buddy? The tomb of Saarthal, on the first layer of Avernus. Baator."

 


	11. Avernus

"Well, first I found you in the snow outside of Winterhold and dragged you into the local inn. Then an old woman granted me access to the college but denied you and forced you to run some errands where you learned the power of belief, the value of proper laundry, and the pain of loss."

"Uh…"

"Then you entered the college and made master Quill drop his chocolate, causing him to lash out and call you a zombie. We then went to bed and you woke up saying something about amnesia."

"Right…"

"I must say, I think it's a remarkable gift. Most around here would say otherwise, but not me! Most people leave when they grow too tired of me talking. They see me and turn the other way, but not you! No, no, no! how can you walk away if you can't remember me?"

"Well…"

"I've seen a lot in my life. I mean, have you seen Dimtree? Of course, you did! Yesterday remember? Oh, that's right! You don't! Ha ha ha ha ha ha! Forgive me, I grow so absent-minded sometimes!"

"Look…"

"I bet you've also forgotten my discussion about coffins! Most would find them exceedingly dull. But not me! No, no! Well, ok. Maybe a little. After all, I did leave them to come here. But even so, I know a great deal and I can tell you there's more than meets the eye."

"Ok, that's enough…"

"See, it starts with the wood. There's Bytopian pine, that's my favorite…"

"SHUT THE F*K UP!"

"Yes, please shut the f*k up!" Master Quill calls back over his shoulder. "We can't afford this kind of nonsense here. Our hosts need to take us seriously."

"Our hosts?" The Dunmer, Brelyna Maryon or something weird like that, asks incredulously. "More like our bloody executioners! I so did not sign up for this!"

"You signed up to see the wonders of the planes, didn't you? Well, this is one of those planes! Very few ever see this place. You should be honored."

"I don't want to see this place!" She looks around trembling. "How could anyone?"

You have to agree with her there. You're in a barren wasteland with a smoky red sky filled with balls of gas, which would be disturbing enough. But it's the feeling of dread that permeates your every being. You know it's not normal. You can tell it's not only you, no matter how well they may try to hide it.

"Ah come on, Brely! It's all part of the experience," the woman in pink pushes back. "The whole point is to find the purpose of the multiverse! Even if there is no purpose!"

"How does that make any sense!? Gah! Everyone in this place is crazy!"

"Quit your complaining or you owe me more chocolate!"

"My, my. Is the great college of Winterhold so desperate that it must recruit rabble such as this?"

Everyone jumps a few feet in shock then turns around. Seemingly from out of nowhere, a red scaly creature with wings, claws, and teeth eyes you with amusement, or what you take to be amusement since that face is in no way human.

"Ancano," Quill says cautiously. "Please don't do that."

"My apologies master," the creature speaks that last word with some irony. "I forgot humans had such weak hearing. But I assumed perhaps the Greyskin or the Khajit would hear."

"Greyskin?" Brelyna moves forward angrily but the "Khajit" steps in front. What was his name again?

"This Khajit is known as J'zargo lord Ancano." Oh right. That's his name. "You would do well to remember it for someday J'zargo will be the most powerful mage in all the planes."

Quill looks at "the most powerful mage in all the planes" like he just lit someone on fire. Ancano merely smirks.

"The honor is all mine," he says again ironically before noticing the rest of the class. "I'm sure you're all lovely as far as humans go." His eyes then turn to you and show some actual surprise.

"And you, well. You might just be the loveliest human I've seen in centuries. How ever did you acquire that lovely visage?" He traces his claws over you, sending another shudder throughout your body.

"I wish I knew."

Quill clears his throat.

"Um, Ancano. As per our agreement, these youngsters are here to help survey the ruins."

Ancano finally stops creepily touching you and turns to Quill.

"Of course, old friend. Students…. this way. Avernus welcomes all"

And so, you follow the band of misfits. You, the scarred amnesiac, the chocolate obsessed teacher, the paranoid dark elf, the cat man who refers to himself in the third person, the overeager sensate, and the guy who won't shut his damn mouth!

"And so, I said to him "Alduin is Tanar'ri!" Which if you've read the history books you'll know is absurd. If anything, Alduin's more comparable to a Trelon just eating whatever he can find. But anyway, as I was saying. I haven't the foggiest honestly why he wants to devour the wor… Hey buddy! Are you even listening?"

"No. J'zargo is sick of your continuous prattle. He is here to learn the secrets of Avernus."

"Wow! This place is really beautiful!" The mage in pink is staring around in awe and wonder. "What can you tell us about it Mr. tour guide?"

"Seriously," Brelyna muses. "What is wrong with you?"

"Well my dear," the sick creature draws out. "This is Avernus, the first layer of Baator. It is led by lady Zariel in her basalt citadel. Our only major attraction if you could call it that is the Bronze citadel, forever undergoing remodeling for the next wave of attack."

"Attack? Oh, you mean the Tanar'ri!"

"Yes…. The masters of chaos." He spits this out with venom. "It is so very frustrating. How can one lead the planes when they refuse to bend to reason? It boggles the mind!"

"Boggling the mind is what experience is all about!" He grins back at her words.

"A sensate hmm? Stick with me my dear. I'll show you things you'll never forget."

"Of course, you'll never forget," Brelyna responds, "once they've blackmailed you into their forces!"

"Now now. I don't need you as foot soldiers. You're helping us already with excavation of this ancient ruin." Meanwhile, you get experience with one of the lower planes. A rare opportunity is it not?"

"For good reason," she mutters.

"I take it you have bad blood with the Baatezu, young Dunmer?"

"That's putting it mildly. Your kind has cost me members of my family. Promising them a better life, then using them as fodder for your petty little war."

"Petty and little are hardly applicable to the Blood War my dear. We are fighting for a cause greater than you can possibly imagine. To bring law and order to these unlawful planes. The family members you speak of should be honored to be a part of it. Where would they be otherwise? Struggling to survive in the hell that is Morrowind, or languishing in the slums under your lord the savior Stormcloak?"

"Ulfric is no deva, except when compared to you."

"Enough Maryon! Keep your personal opinions to yourself! If you want to experience the planes, you have to learn to respect other's opinions."

"But-"

"Silence!"

"Oh no need for that Quill," the creature responds. "She's not a member of our armies… yet. She's welcome to her opinions. Though I must say I'm curious where the rest of you stand? I imagine for many of you this is your first time to a lower plane?"

"Oh no Mr. Ancano," Hamrys buts in. "I've been to the lower chaotic evil plane of Carceri. Where else would I find Dimtree? He is a Tuscampa after all."

"You command a Tuscampa?" Ancano sounds surprised. "That is indeed impressive for a mortal. How did you acquire it?"

"Oh, I'm glad you asked Mr. Ancano! Well first let me tell you a little something about coffins. The first thing you need is- "

"Stop! I no longer care. What about you scarred man?" You snap out of your stupor to see him staring at you intensely. "What brings you here?"

"Mr. chocolate over there told me I had to."

"Oh, excuse me for appreciating the finer things in life!"

"But what about the college? The pursuit of magic? Why this, when you could do anything else in the world?"

"Uh." He's got you there.

"He wouldn't know Mr. Ancano. I found him without any memory of his past. Lying in the snow."

"No memory?" He again sounds shocked. "Is that why you've undertaken this noble pursuit? To find who you are?"

"I…. guess. Mostly I'm hoping for some kind of extra credit."

The creature stares at you trying to make sense of your words. Then he gives another disturbing grin (or at least you think it's a grin. Hard to read).

"Perhaps there is someone, or rather something, that can help you with that. At a price. Just over the next ridge in fact."

"At a price?" Quill sounds confused for a second then goes pale. "Wait Ancano. You don't mean…"

"Oh, I do old friend. I do."

It's at this moment that you begin to hear the sounds. Just from over the next hill, a chorus of voices all speaking at once. You can't make it out, but it drives your paranoia up even further.

"Ancano," Quill speaks cautiously. "We are here to help with the excavation. Nothing more. You remember that don't you?"

"Saarthal is right that way Master." Again, he says that ironically pointing off in another direction from where the voices are coming from. "I believe you know the way by now. Besides, I offered this to our friend here alone. We can catch up. My soldiers there know not to harm you."

Quill looks hesitant, a far cry from his previous haughtiness. But your fellow students have other plans.

"Woah woah! Hold on!" Hamrys places his hand on your shoulder and squeezes tight. "No way am I leaving someone with amnesia to wander off alone towards some strange moaning sounds! Not after all we've been through together!"

"You met him yesterday," Brelyna says."

"And what a day it was! Am I right?"

"No need Hamrys, no need," you assure him while pulling away. "This won't take long. I'm just going to peek over the hill and hope right on back. I'll se you later."

"Nonsense I insist. And so, does Nenny. Right Nenny?"

"You bet your buttocks, talking man!" The woman in pink lights up. "This is the experience of a lifetime!"

"J'zargo agrees. J'zargo will not cower from opportunity. His name will ring across the planes someday!"

"Right, I've heard enough." Brelyna heads in the other direction. "You're all barmier than Sheogorath. If you want to walk off to your dooms go ahead. Let's go professor."

Quill looks both ways unsure what to say, but then looks you over and shrugs.

"Your choice. Can't learn without risks. Come along then Greyskin. You can help with the excavation."

Brelyna looks at him angrily then back at you with worry and follows the teacher away.

"Yes dig, Greyskin. It's what you're good for," Ancano whispers spitefully. He then turns to you.

"The rest of you. The brave. Follow."

You do just that, the feeling of dread growing stronger.

…

This was a bad idea. You admit that too yourself. Off course far too late.

You've seen some pretty weird stuff the last day you can remember. And judging from your artistic tattoos, you've seen a lot of weird stuff throughout your whole life.

But if you've seen anything close to the level of strangeness as what you're currently face to face with…. Maybe amnesia isn't so bad.

Standing tall before you lies this… thing. This horrible, towering, pulsating thing, filling you with nausea, unfounded loathing, and a faint sense of familiarity. The innumerable rotting heads which make up the vast pile seems to constantly shift and throb, alternately bickering, weeping, conversing, shouting and whispering to one another. Heads constantly bubble to the surface of the stack from somewhere within its foul core, while others sink back into the grisly pillar.

And all the while, Ancano is staring at you, somewhat gleefully, taking in your awe and fear. Finally working up the will to tear yourself away from the sight of this monstrosity, you look around at your companions. To your dismay, you don't see worry or fright, but curiosity, fascination, and flat out excitement.

"OH. MY. GOD." Nenny has her hand over her mouth, shaking giddily. "This is the best day ever!"

"I know right," Hamrys interjects. "All those coffins, and all those bodies. To think, some of those saps might be here!"

You slap your hand against your forehead. The elf was right. These folks are barmy.

"If J'zargo is correct, and he always is, this is the Pillar of Skulls. The fate of liars and thieves."

"Not just that, my boy," Ancano grins. "The fate of all whose lies or theft cost someone else their lives. All those lives, all that knowledge. For a price, it can be yours."

"Knowledge," J'zargo repeats. "Knowledge of magic?"

"And other things." Damn abishai is still staring at you.

You stare back frustrated. "And you showed us this, why?"

"That thing is composed of souls from all over the planes. Perhaps one in there knows you."

You are incredulous. "Really? There's a chance someone in there just happens to know me?

"Even if they don't, they might have heard something about a scarred amnesiac. Information like that tends to spread. You can find it in the right place, if you're willing to take risks."

"Risks are all part of experience," Nenny pipes in. "Oh, this is why I became a mage!"

"And I a coffin maker! Let's get closer!"

"Hamrys, wait!"

Too late though. The skulls making up the pillar go quiet and turn their heads. They stare at the muscular young man with indifference. Then they turn to you and their expression changes.

"WELCOME! WELCOME TO AVERNUS. HOW MIGHT WE HELP YOU?"

"Young minds in need of molding," Alecto speaks up. The skulls turn.

"YOU AGAIN," they say with some disdain. "WE HAVE NOTHING MORE TO SAY. WE TOLD YOU ALL WE KNOW ABO-."

"Oh, I'm not here about that. We already found him. No, I'm here with someone who needs to find himself."

The skulls turn again to you. They look in closely, scrutinizing you, then nodding their heads.

"YOU HAVE QUESTIONS? THEN BE PREPARED TO MAKE AN OFFERING."

"Offering?"

"THE SKULL."

You just stare.

"What skull? You have plenty there already."

"YET LACK ONE. ONE YOU STOLE."

"Stole a skull?"

"You were muttering about a skull when I found you buddy. Maybe you were on your way here to return it?"

"Signing up with the college to return a skull to the first layer of hell? You're amazing! A true sensate!" Nenny clasps her hands in joy.

"Well, I don't know what skull you're referring to. I haven't got one."

"UNFORTUNATE. THEN WE HAVE NOTHING TO SAY TO YOU. UNLESS YOU GIVE US A LIFE."

"A life?"

"ONE OF YOUR COMRADES."

At this, the overly cheery Hamrys and Nenny blanche. Ancano looks interested.

"Hey hang on. Friend. Wait…"

"Why would you want…"

"HUNGER. WE HUNGER. WE YEARN TO TASTE FLESH, TO SAVOR SCREAMS."

You think for a bit.

"In exchange for what?"

"Buddy! What the hell?"

"KNOWLEDGE. WE HAVE MET BEFORE SCARRED MAN. YOU HAVE LAID YOUR UNWORTHY HANDS UPON US. WE CAN TELL WHEN AND WHY."

Your fellow students look at you with worry. Except for J'zargo who is looking at the hideous tower with curiosity. The skulls await your answer.

Maybe it's the annoyingly smug smiles on their and the abishai's faces; or maybe it's the truly desperate ones on the otherwise cheery sensate and coffin maker. In either case, giving these monsters what they want, even if it's as good as they claim isn't high on your priority list at the moment.

"No."

Your classmates breath a sigh of relief. Ancano and the skulls look at you in surprise.

"NO? YOU WILL NOT? CURIOUS. WE THOUGHT YOU WERE A MAN OF CHARACTER. HOW ELSE COULD YOU SURVIVE?"

"I have to agree with the skulls, ludicrous as that is." Ancano examines you closely. "I would expect someone with your experience to know better."

"And how would you know anything about my experience, when even I don't know? Hmm?"

It's his turn to blanche. He quickly recovers.

"Truly the college has lowered their standards. Mages used to take chances, push themselves to explore. Then one little accident with fire and cowardice takes over."

He starts to walk away. "Come along then. Let's dig. It's fitting for failures."

You all stare after him somewhat confused as to what just happened. Hamrys and Nenny stare at you with gratitude, before silently walking back towards where Quill and the elf went.

"THE BAATEZU IS WRONG. WE CAN SEE THAT. THE MAN YOU WERE IS STILL IN THERE. YOU WILL RETURN." They pause.

"AND WHEN YOU DO, BRING THE SKULL."

You're not really sure how to respond to that. All you know is you've stared at this repulsive thing long enough. All the heads and their constant chattering and taunting… The notion that you would ever have had any kind of business with such an abomination…

You need to remember to record this in case you forget again. Remind yourself. Never return to Avernus or the Pillars of skulls again. You turn to leave.

Only J'zargo remains. He has been mostly silent through this whole exchange, not revealing any kind of emotion except silent contemplation. As you walk away you can hear him talking to the pillar.

"A KHAJIT? MANY OF YOUR KIND FULFILL THEIR DUTY HERE WITH US. PERHAPS YOU HAVE COME TO DO THE SAME?"

"J'zargo comes for purpose and knowledge."

You should also remember to record that a student is potentially selling his soul for some dark spells. Before you can do that however, you hear someone calling out for you.

You turn to see the dark elf, Bre- something was it? Whatever the name, she's running towards you.

"What's going on? The others came this way looking like ghosts! And what in Talos' name is that!?"

"Pillar composed of liars. Offered me knowledge if I killed someone."

She stares with a wide-open mouth.

"I know. How about you? Find anything interesting?"

"Huh? Oh right. Well actually yes. We stumbled- well, Quill stumbled onto a secret passage. He dropped his chocolate, tried to pick it up, and must have activated some kind of door or something."

"That's a coincidence. The very same day we decide to take a little trip to this lovely vacation site?"

"Well, they'd already dug pretty far into Saarthal. I guess we broke through the last wall or something."

"Or something? Real mage-like."

"Shut it berk. Anyway, the idiot falls on this new path. We follow it down and find this giant room with some writing on the wall and this weird thing on a pedestal."

"I presume they're going to take it back and get it identified?"

"Oh no need. Even Quill didn't need a book. He took one look and knew immediately what it was."

"Am I supposed to guess?"

"It was a hand. The hand. The hand of Vecna."

You stare.

"That's important right?"

She slaps her forehead.

 


	12. Ignus

"Well, first I found you in the snow outside of Winterhold and dragged you into the local inn. Then an old woman granted me access to the college but denied you and forced you to run some errands where you learned the power of belief, the value of proper laundry, and the pain of loss."

"Uh…"

"Then you entered the college and made master Quill drop his chocolate, causing him to lash out and call you a zombie. We then went to bed and you woke up saying something about amnesia. I told you all this yesterday"

"Right…"

"And then we went to hell where we met a red abishai and a mountain of skeleton heads that tried to convince you to give them another skull or kill us."

"Huh…"

"But like the buddy you are, you looked that thing in its many faces and said, NO! No, I will not sacrifice my friends or an innocent skull for knowledge of my past life!"

"Really…"

"And then master Quill stumbled upon the hand of Vecna while chasing after some chocolate he dropped. Pretty swell eh?"

"Yeah…"

"And now here we are back in the college where you just asked me again where you are and who I am. To which I replied; Well, first I found you in the snow outside of Winterhold-"

"Ok! I get it! Thank you! Sheesh!"

"You're welcome friend. Say, if you forgot all that, I bet you forgot about Dimtree too! Well, Dimtree is a Tuscampa, which as you remember are hard to collect. Oh, that's right! You don't remember anything!"

You place your hands over your ears in desperation, trying to blot out the madness. You wake up with no memory surrounded by freaks who say you've been here for two days already!

Two days!? You don't see how you could last one with this idiot chatting his arse off!

"And so then she said she never knew me! Which is of course ridiculous. I leant her the book!"

"Give him a break Hamrys. The poor lass is overwhelmed enough as it is."

You turn to see that strange woman who calls herself master wizard or something.

"Master Ervine! I'm just giving him the details."

"Yes well, it seems he needs a lot of reminders, doesn't he? If this is going to be a constant ordeal, perhaps you should consider a journal."

A journal? You scoff at the idea.  
"Can you imagine? I'd be constantly updating it or something!"

"I know right! That would be like the most annoying thing ever!"

"You would know," you mutter under your breath. He looks at you confused.

"Pardon?" To which you just shrug your shoulders innocently.

"I will find you a journal to record your memories. It should keep you up to date. Now, I believe we are here to study magic are we not? I mean you've been here two days and not really gotten a chance to test yourself."

"Oh yes, magic! If it's all right with you master, I'd like to give my buddy here a lesson in conjuration. My thanks for not sacrificing me to that pillar."

"I believe you should practice with Phinis Gestor. He is the college's leading master in conjuration. He should be in the main hall looking at the… hand.

"The hand?" Hamrys looks confused for a minute then comes to realization.

"Oh, the hand of Vecna!"

"Yes, the hand of Vecna. Lady knows how the arch-mage is going to react to that when he returns."

With nothing else to do, you follow Hamrys to the main hall. You are immediately hit with a feeling of worry. In the center of the room lies a hand with an eye in the center of its palm being examined by several mages. Some you saw when you woke up in this hellhole, others are new faces.

"So, remind me professor," the Dummer, Brely- something says. "How did you convince the frigging Baatezu to let you take one of the most dangerous artifacts in the planes, rather than them."

"Their capital city is currently under siege. It's too dangerous to keep there so they allowed us to keep it here for the time being to keep them updated and study its effects."

"Oh so we're just guinea pigs? They're going to let us destroy ourselves and then claim it!?"

"No one is going to touch it at all. We are not amateurs. We're not rushing into this blindly."

"Master Gestor!" Hamrys announces your entrance. A near bald Breton, as he's apparently known, turns at his name being called. '

"The conquerors of Avernus, I presume?" You scoff a bit at his tone.

"We wish to learn about conjuration."

"Well," Hamrys clarifies. "I'm already quite a master at the art. It's my buddy here who needs the assistance."

As it turns out, you don't really. As you work with this so-called master, you perform all the summonings he requests. At some point, he appears to give up trying to teach you and just tests what you can do.

"Summon a lim-lim!" Hamrys dares. "Now a tuscampa! Now a glabrezu!"

"Wait! Wait!" Master Gestor steps in. "You can at the very least bargain with a cornugon. A glabrezu? Not so much."

"But seriously, buddy! You're amazing! It took me years to summon Dimtree! Years! And you summoned a frigging boneman! How do you do it?"

"I… don't know. I just feel like I've done it before."

"Summoned bonemen from Carceri? That's not possible. You would've had to make some kind of deal with the Ideal masters and that never works well."

"Ideal masters? Carceri?"

He looks you over like he's listening to a crazy person. Like he's one to talk!

"You really do have memory problems son," Gestor says. "Those aren't things anyone would forget. Plus you really do need to know about those to summon bonemen."

"How so?"

"Let me explain Hamrys," Gestor intervenes before he can open his mouth. "You have a tendency to ramble."

"Ramble? I am merely ensuring that all aspects of the topic are understood to the fullest amount. For example, coffins…"

"Yes, yes. Thank you, Hamrys. In any case. Carceri is the prison plane. Ruled over supposedly by beings known as the Ideal Masters."

You snort at that name but let him continue.

"Well technically master, that's just one aspect of Carceri, the Soul Cairn. It is the prison for souls who are foolish enough to make deals with the masters."

You notice Hamrys going red in the face at that statement. He takes a look at you then quickly rights himself. You turn back to the master.

"What kind of deals?"

"Deals for power. For the kind of creatures, you have summoned. That Hamrys here can summon."

"Dimtree." He nods and casts some kind of spell, summoning a giant horned monstrosity.

"My father was foolish enough to make a deal."

The teacher goes white and looks away in shame. Hamrys ignores it and continues.

"He was a man hoping for more. For power. The soul cairn had that power. He made a deal with the masters of that wretched place and… He never came back."

You should probably leave it there but you're too curious.

"How did you get the horned fiend then?"

"He managed to get that much out of the deal. I found the scroll sent to me. He….." His voice takes on greater remorse. "He gave everything for me. Left me that beast and a few other fiends to practice with conjuration. He wanted me to make it as a mage. Have a better life than that of a coffinmaker scrapping by in the slums of Windhelm." He takes a breath then turns to you with anger in his voice.

"Which is why I'm somewhat peeved that an amnesiac who can't even remember the last day can master what took me years to perfect!"

You shrug.

"I just kind of get this flashback when I do some things I guess. I wish I knew." As an afterthought, you add, "Sorry."

"That's it? That's all?"

You shrug half-heartedly. He looks a bit then sighs and looks to the teacher.

"With all due respect teacher, I think I'm done for now. It's clear I'm out of my league here."

And with that… you did it. You shut him up! For some reason, seeing him walk away isn't as satisfying as you would have thought.

Gestor looks between both of you in confusion.

"Class….dismissed?"

…

You hear noise. The sound of someone getting up from the bed. Part of you wants to blow it off. The other part of you can't resist the call of adventure.

It's the cat. J'zargo. He who refers to himself in the third person and as the greatest mage in existence.

You think on the irony of that claim. Even with no memory of your past life, you probably are better at magic than he ever has been.

You follow him out across the courtyard into the main hall. He walks up to the hand, remaining unprotected in the center. That sure is starting to seem like a bad idea.

He reaches out to touch it. That's when you decide to intervene.

"Hands off the hand!"

On one hand he doesn't hear that cringe-worthy phrase. On the other, he does touch it and mutters something.

A flash of light knocks you off your feet, ascending to the top ceiling. Something like a roar arises from the hand, shaking the entire room, and seemingly the entire college.

"Flames of Baator! Can't a Dunmer get some sleep? Yo- Holy crap!"

"Come on buddy! Still trying to outdo me!?"

"Incredible! Marvelous! Expialidocious! How smart was I to leave the festhall!"

You see to your dismay your fellow students have woken up and are all staring with a strange mixture of fear, and joy.

"You!" Teacher Irvine runs forward. "You haven't forgotten again have you?"

"Not yet. I guess it happens at midnight or something."

"Well then. Perhaps you care to explain why J'zargo apparently decided to break the do not touch rule!?"

"He considers himself the greatest mage in existence. Probably wanted to test it."

"Of course. I should have figured. Everyone stand back! We need to-"

"Be level-headed Mirabelle."

"H-headmaster!"

Another Dunmer, or whatever you call them in a fancy ass suit marches out from seemingly out of nowhere.

"I believe we prepared for such an eventuality my dear. Once professor Quell arrives, we may use the failsafe."

"Quell? You mean we've been spelling it wrong this whole time?"

"Damn right you have been you stubborn witch! And what's this all about eh? This is your fault isn't it, you scarred monkey!? Not enough to steal my chocolate is it? Now you want to take down the whole damn college! I knew it you deceitful baatezu, you trolloping tanar'ri, you-."

"Oh, for the Lady's sake Quell, stow it! It's the Khajit not the walking corpse! Help us stop him before he reenacts Ignus burning the town!"

Before you can call her out for calling you a corpse, Quill (Quell?) reluctantly nods and takes up a position on one side of the barrier that has now formed around J'zargo. The other two take up their own positions and all at once fire some kind of beam forward while chanting some nonsensical mumbo jumbo.

It takes some time, but you began to notice the whatever-the-hell-you're-looking-at slowly began to subside. And just in time. Another minute and the barrier would have reached you at the edge.

The three master wizards continue to chant, until the roaring stops, and the barrier fades revealing an unconscious J'zargo.

As Mirabelle Irvine steps forward to examine the damage, Hamrys turns to you a grim smile on his face.

"That's what being a mage is all about, am I right buddy?"

"Who are you!? Where am I!? Who killed that cat!? What happened to my arm!?"

Everyone stares at you, then sighs and shakes their heads.

…

"Well, first I found you in the snow outside of Winterhold and dragged you into the local inn. Then an old woman granted me access to the college but denied you and forced you to run some errands where you learned the power of belief, the value of proper laundry, and the pain of loss."

"Uh…"

"Then you entered the college and made master Quill (sorry, Quell!) drop his chocolate, causing him to lash out and call you a zombie. We then went to bed and you woke up saying something about amnesia. I told you all this yesterday"

"Right…"

"And then we went to hell where we met a red abishai and a mountain of skeleton heads that tried to convince you to give them another skull or kill us."

"Huh…"

"But like the buddy you are, you looked that thing in its many faces and said, No! No, I will not sacrifice my friends or an innocent skull for knowledge of my past life!"

"Really…"

"And then master Quell stumbled upon the hand of Vecna while chasing after some chocolate he dropped. And did we leave it in the safety of the bazztezu? Of course not!"

"Yeah…"

"No! We brought it back here and you had to show me up by summoning bonemen which took years for me to do! And I admittedly got jealous and stopped talking to you for the rest of the day."

"That's a first, I'll bet…"

"Well, J'zargo must have noticed too and decided that the hand would put him a step ahead. Nearly took down the whole college too. And of course, you forget just as it all ends and ask who am I and who are you? To which I reply: Well, first I found you in the snow outside of Winterhold-."

"All right! All right! I get it! Thank you for refreshing me. Sheesh. So what about this hand?"

"Well it's being guarded by a master at all times so no one tries anything with it again. Of course, no one besides J'zargo would be dumb enough to mess with it."

"Really? Not even you?" A dark elf walks by.

"Not even me, Brelyna. I know better than to mess with the body part of a god."

"That's more common sense than most mages here," she scoffs. "I told them not to bring that thing here. But does anyone listen to a greyskin? No! Never mind that I probably have more experience with dangers of the lower plane than anyone else here!"

"You speak of your family being bribed into servitude. But have you ever set foot on an actual lower plane prior to our latest trip?"

"Well… No. But I have read a ton!"

"Indeed," you finally speak out I'm sure that makes you an expert beyond us all."

She looks at you surprised.

"Forgot you were here. I see losing your memory hasn't lost you your snark. Which reminds me…" She pulls a piece of paper out of her robe.

"We found this writing on the walls in the ruin right behind that accursed hand. It says frost. Any idea why it would be there?"

You don't respond and instead look over the word. Before you can comment, you feel the word being implanted in your mind. FROST.

"Hello? Scarface?"

"Huh? Oh yeah. I don't know what it means."

She gives you a suspicious look, but before she can respond, you hear arguing.

"Headmaster, the hand is clearly too dangerous to remain here. It poses a clear and present threat to me and my chocolate!"

"Chocolate?"

"Err, I mean me and my students. We're at risk here. Maybe we should return it to Avernus."

"You mean return it to the Baatezu? I think not. I know you have history with them Quill-"

"Quell!"

"Right. Sorry, Quell. As dangerous as it is here, in the hands of the Baatezu, it would be a million times worse. I suspect lady Zariel is already making plans to reclaim it."

"Lady Zariel can't make any such plans while her city is under siege from Tanar'ri scum. These students, however? They are here and apparently able to activate it!"

You and your fellow students have been following the sounds to the main hall. You see two dark elfs, one identified as the headmaster and the other identified as Mirabelle Irvine debating with the wizard identified as master Quell, whose chocolate you apparently ruined on day one. Of course, this is all according to the loud-mouthed Hamrys.

"I do have to agree with him on that. J'zargo is skilled. But enough to activate the hand of Vecna? How would he know something like that?"

"The greyskin says she saw him talking to the pillar of skulls. She rushed off with the nameless student to help us remove the hand from Sarthal. She says she saw him talk with the skulls however."

The headmaster is silent for a minute. "And you believe they may have told him the secret?"

"How else does a fool like J'zargo gain such a skill? It's just like the skulls! Thieving liars!"

"It could also be a Baatezu plot," Mirabelle suggests. "Perhaps even your friend Ancano, hmm?"

Quell goes red for a minute. "He's not my friend. He's been talking with mages for generations. I merely have to talk with him to go anywhere in Avernus."

"All the same, it does seem suspicious that they would allow us to bring an item as powerful as the hand of Vecna to Skyrim!"

The headmaster is silent again for a bit. "Whether this is part of some plot or not, the hand is clearly too dangerous to remain here. At the same time, we cannot risk removing it from the college and letting others find out. The reputation of the college is dire enough without the town fearing we'll bring the town down again as we nearly did before. And if news gets out that we have the hand of Vecna, we'll have the worst of society bearing down on us. We might even have the dark-".

"A moment headmaster," Mirabelle intervenes. "This place has ears."

The three of them turn to find the three of you listening ashamedly.

"Oops," you finally say. "Were we not supposed to hear that?"

"No you were not!" Quell retorts rather angrily. "And for the record, after J'zargo, you are the next most likely to use the hand for evil doing! No name, no past, no memory, and yet total proficiency with all magic we throw at you! And such disrespect for your elders! After what you did to my chocolate-"

"Oh enough with the damn chocolate, Quill! Honestly-"

"Quell!"

"Right Quell sorry," Mirabelle corrects herself. "All the same, let's not dispense suspicion on the students right now."

"We should however be cautious," Quell insists. "All of them came for some kind of magical fortitude. Magic is a means, not an end after all. Anyone here could have a reason to use the hand. But only he has displayed close to the skill needed to wield it!"

"Your caution is understandable Quell. But Mirabelle is right that we should not alienate students lest they turn to such dangerous ways."

"But-" Quell seems to be starting some kind of thought, but a look from the headmaster causes him to hold his tongue. He takes a look at you, before walking away to check on the hand of Vecna.

"I apologize for Master Quell's behavior." You see the headmaster is looking at you. "He's gone through a great deal of stress these past few years. He loves this college very much and wants to see it spared any further humiliations."

He pauses and then speaks again.

"I've heard a great deal about you nameless student. I hear you've achieved a level of mastery in conjuration not common for first time students. I wish we had more time to test you, but for the moment, we must figure out what to do with this artifact. Quell is right about one thing. If anyone outside these walls learns what we're storing here, it could spell doom for our college."

"Wait," you call out before you can stop yourself. "We're here to learn right? Maybe we can learn more about this hand for you?"

You inwardly criticize yourself for saying something you don't want to do. The dark elf student Brelyna or whatever gives a look suggesting she doesn't want to either. Hamrys of course….

"That's the spirit buddy! We'll find something sure enough! Don't you old geezers worry! We'll find a way to contain it! Or perhaps destroy it. Or even banish it to the negative material plane! Or convert it into renewable energy. Or…"

"Yes. Yes. Go ahead Hamrys. Check out the library why don't you? Perhaps you'll find something useful."

"Woah, woah. Hold on!" Brelyna intervenes. "You can go on a goose chase if you want. But leave me out of it!"

"Now Brelyna," Mirabelle responds. "You came here to learn did you not? Learning isn't all about working with magic. A lot of it is good old fashioned dull reading."

"I know that! I'm not some amateur. I can read!"

"Then this should prove no great challenge, hmm?"

Brelyna wants to offer another retort, but realizes she's not getting anywhere and resigns herself to her fate.

"Hell yeah!" Hamrys throws an arm around you both in excitement. "To the library! We're gonna have a hell of a time!"

…

You don't have a hell of a time. Reading through vast novels of knowledge not available elsewhere in the multiverse should be a joy. But frankly, you just can't bring yourself to enjoy it properly.

Amidst all the immense scrolls and epics, you can't find any mention of the hand of Vecna. At You can find plenty of other historical stories however.

"Whatcha reading there, buddy?" Hamrys of course is looking over your shoulder. "The Oblivion crisis? Oh, you history nerd! I didn't know you had it in you!"

"We're not looking up Ravel Puzzlewell, dumbo!" Brelyna calls out. "We're looking up Vecna! Go back in time!"

"Hey, come on Brely! He needs to know this stuff. Especially since he doesn't know his own name! Allow me to share the history of the Oblivion crisis and Ravel Puzzlewell with you!"

"Oh no. No really, I'm fine…."

Too late. He's started talking.

"Ravel Puzzlewell was a Night hag from the Grey Wastes. As terrifying as the hags are, they are nothing compared to Ravel herself. She was a decipher of riddles no one sought answers to. Her quest throughout her centuries of life was the answer to a riddle. What can change the nature of a man?"

That question strikes you like a runaway horse. As annoying and pointless everything Hamrys says usually is, you know that what he said is significant. For that, you keep from asking him to shut up for the moment.

"It is said that she put the question to the Lady of Pain; not directly, but shouted it to Tamriel itself, daring for the Lady to answer. When no reply was forthcoming, she wove terrible magics that opened the boundaries between planes and let the monstrosity Mehrunes Dagon himself flow in like a wave."

You look about for your newly established journal to write this down before you forget. You can't find it though, and Hamrys has no pause button once he gets going.

"But Martin Septum was there to save the day! The great Martin Septum! He through whom the Lady of Pain answered Ravel's call. He became the avatar of the Lady, greatest of the divine, and banished Dagon and Ravel out of our realm!"

"Huh. You don't say." You get the feeling you ought to know this. But then you ought to know your name.

"Yes that's fascinating and all Hamrys." Brelyna speaks out. "But we're looking for information on Vecna, not Ravel! You're several centuries apart!"

"Doesn't hurt to know your history Brely! Helps us to avoid repeating the same mistakes."

The woman known as Nenny Nine-eyes, a sensate you recall Hamrys telling you, walks in with an overly cheerful smile. Frankly, it annoys you.

"Don't call me Brely. And don't bother us either. We're researching the time bomb in our midst."

"Oh, the hand of Vecna?" That seems to make her even more excited. "You won't find that in any ordinary novel. Vecna's followers destroyed or collected most material relating to him. To find anything on the hand, you have to look for pretty rare stuff. Look for forbidden stuff. Dark, dark stuff."

Brelyna is about to say something in her usual snarky retort, but then closes it again. "That's… relatively intelligent actually. Of course what counts as dark magic or forbidden in this place?"

"Oh ask Urag Gro-shub."

Everyone looks at each other. Except for you who found a book you actually have some interest in.

"Who's Urag Gro-shub?"

"The librarian, silly. He knows all the weird juicy gossip you can find in this school. Come on, let's find him, ask him what he knows."

"That's the spirit, Nenny! Come on buddy, let's go talk to a grouchy orc! Maybe he knows a spell for memory loss! Buddy? Buddy! Hey, are you listening?"

You are not actually listening. You are busy reading some journal written in some language you can't understand. Not at first anyway. But it gives the impression that you've seen it before.

"Whatcha reading buddy? Looks like a bunch of gobbly gook!" He looks at the title.

"Looks like a diary of some sort. Can't tell who's though. And…. that's strange. The front is normal. But the further back you go, the more degraded the pages appear."

He's right. You flip through some of the later pages. There are burn marks and ash.

"Wow," Brelyna comments. "It's amazing that thing is still in usable condition. What kind of psycho would write this?"

"One from this college. And one of our greatest mistakes."

You all turn to see Nenny walking in accompanied by an elderly green-skinned man. He doesn't look happy to be there.

"Fellow magic practicioners, may I introduce the great Urag Gro-shub! Librarian extraordinaire. I figured you were all so into that book that I would simply retrieve him for you! Hail!"

"Yes, yes. No need for such introductions Ms. Nine-eyes. I am simply here to answer your pointless questions as quickly as possible so I can be left alone to contemplate the futility of existence."

"I…. see." You don't but figure it better than to debate philosophy with an old tired geezer. "We're looking for something on the hand of Vecna."

"Ah, yes. The latest pet project. You'd think they'd learned their lesson about dangerous artifacts. But no! Ah well. Good luck with that. It's not in any regular book. And most mages here know nothing about it."

"Most? Who would?"

"A psychopath no longer with us unfortunately. He lit himself and half the town on fire and now repays his debt as the main source of revenue to the Smoldering Corpse Bar."

"Wait." Brelyna looks surprised. "You mean the guy on fire?"

"I believe he's known as the burning man," Nenny says proudly.

"Thank you for that contribution," the elf says snarkily.

"Wait. He lit himself on fire?"

The orc sighs and rubs his forehead.

"No, he lit others on fire and someone else lit him on fire. Their idea of an ironic punishment. Now he floats in that establishment, waiting for someone to wake him up."

You hold up the diary you've been slowly translating. You don't know how you do it without a dictionary. You just do it. Much like you don't know how you survive with the kind of scars you have. You just do.

"Did he keep a dictionary?"

"I suppose so. He was a gifted mage during his time here. He did it in a rare language, however. The tongue of the long lost Uyo, so no one could read it."

You decide to show him the journal. "Like this?"

His eyes widen somewhat.

"You found it? I really do need to clean this place up. Bleh. Seen better days, I can tell."

"There's a lot in here." You skim through. "It starts out talking about his travel to Hammerfell, his servitude under some kind of someone he calls master, coming here…."

"Wait. You can read it?"

"Uh, yeah." You pause. Feeling awkward all of a sudden. Everyone's eyes are trained on you.

"Well, go on. Does it say anything relevant to our current situation?"

"Oh, right. Well, he comes here. Sounds like he's disappointed. Ok. Now it starts to get a bit crazy. Really starts to emphasis on the s'. Says things like burnssssssssssssss, and yessssssssssssss."

"Not relevant. Can you find anything about the hand of Vecna?"

"…..No. Can't find anything. Could have been in the alter pages but those are charred. You sure this guy knew something about the hand? Doesn't sound like the picture of mental health."

"He made mention of it a few times. Of course no one was willing to take him at his word. As you said, he wasn't the picture of mental health."

You skim through the thing again.

"Well, I've translated everything I could. I would need more time to translate the rest. But I don't see any real mention of the hand itself. Does he have any other writings?"

"Not to my knowledge. He didn't really enjoy scrolls and books. To him, they were just…. Tinder."

That raises some eyebrows around the room. You close the diary and stand back to your full height.

"So, the burning man is our only lead," Brelyna finally speaks up.

"Seems like it. Any idea how to get his secrets?"

"Let's ask him!" Nenny joyfully shouts.

Everyone gives her the weird look.

"What? Do you have a better idea?"

"No. But if I did, it would be better than communicating with a psychopath who tried to burn the whole town down!"

"He couldn't tell you even if you asked." Oh look. The librarian's still here. "He's asleep. Waiting for someone to wake him up."

"Wake him up? How?"

"Oh come on! We're not seriously considering this are we?"

"It doesn't matter what he considers. You can't do anything like that without the permission of the headmaster and the town itself. That was part of the agreement."

"And I would never allow that." You all turn to see the headmaster. "Unless the situation of course proved severe enough."

"Well, sir," you think carefully how to respond. "This seems pretty severe. We have an unstable magical item that could potentially endanger the entire Tamriel Plane, and the only guy in two miles with any idea how to contain it is apparently sleeping it off surrounded by tavern wenches."

He stares at you for a bit, pursuing his lips.

"So we take our chances with the hand of a Daedra lord or an unstable pyromaniac. I must say, those odds are not very appealing."

"The threat you know or the threat you don't," Nenny Nine-eyes points out.

He gives her a strange look.

"It sounds almost like you want to wake him from his slumber."

"I never said that. I'm just pointing out the options. At the very least I assume you have means to contain Ignus. You don't know if you can do the same with the hand."

"We have considered some means," the headmaster replies thoughtfully. "But even before his transformation, Ignus was arguably the most powerful mage to come out of this college in centuries. We didn't teach him most of his talent. He learned it from somewhere else in a distant land. It took nearly all of us just to contain him. I fear he has only grown more powerful as he is now. And more deranged."

"That said sir, and I can't believe I'm saying this." Gah! The librarian is still here!

"If he knows anything about Vecna's hand, we don't really have any other leads do we?"

The headmaster thinks for a bit. He seems to be trying to come up with an alternative, but eventually he resigns himself to the facts and nods.

"Very well. I'll talk with the other masters and see if we can't come to some sort of agreement. We'll have to talk with the jarl as well."

"Oh I bet that's going to be fun," Brelyna says.

"Oh no!" Nenny is giddy. "Quite the opposite in fact! The tension and anger will be suffocating! Lethal even! Oh, I can't wait to experience that confrontation! It will be glorious!"

Brelyna mutters something about being surrounded by psychos.

…

To everyone's surprise (and worry) jarl whathisname agreed. It took all two and a half days of intense negotiating and reminders Hamrys about where you were and what was about to happen.

"You know buddy, as much as I enjoy your company, this is starting to get tiresome."

"I'll bet."

"No seriously! It hasn't even been one week! Are we going to have to do this every day for the rest of our lives?"

"Maybe not. Maybe we'll get lucky and this wacko will burn us all."

He grimaces. "That's a morbid way to look at it. Though I suppose with what you've been through, that's a small mercy." He then grins.

"Although if we die, we can spend all of eternity together! Then you can teach me how you know so much about conjuration!"

You shudder. An eternity with this nut?

"All right miscreants. It's time to raise hell!"

"Oh hello master Quill. Me and my buddy were just-"

"Quell!"

"Right. Sorry master Quell."

Master "Quell" looks at you with something more complex than mere anger.

"I trust we have you to thank for this latest idea? Finally getting what you want, eh? Was this your purpose all along? Drive us to panic enough to wake that demon up?"

"Please master. He doesn't remember any of that."

"So he claims! A convenient excuse to be sure. Deny any responsibility on your part while you sneak in and destroy us all!" His eyes take on a wide-eyed madman look.

"Enough Quell!" Mirabelle Irvine as she's known walks in. "What's decided is decided. Whatever our scarred friend may have said, ultimately the headmaster made the choice. Come along now. We need to be prepared for the awakening."

Quill (damn it, Quell!) looks at you one more time, then walks away pouting.

You follow, not really wanting to, but apparently this was partially your idea so you have to be there front and center. You so did not sign up for this!

Well according to everyone, actually you did but you forgot. So tough shit.

You apparently haven't been out of the college at all since you went to Avernus. You're thus struck by the cold and the decay of the surrounding town. You follow the crowds of people towards the largest structure minus the college itself. All around you hear the mutterings and whispers of the townsfolk who have all assembled for what may be their last day alive.

"Is it really happening? They're going to wake him up?"

"This is insane. There's no way the jarl would agree to this. Not after what happened."

"What's going to happen to the bar? What will they call it, just the smoldering bar?"

"Who cares about the bar? I'm worried about my children!"

"Isn't that the scarred man the laundry man was whispering about? You reckon he has something to do with this?"

"Praise the True Death! Soon the darkness will claim us all in a burst of fiery passion! We will all pass the boundary and be free of this shadow of life!"

You try to ignore the constant bickering and follow the rest of the college to the bar. One sight that does get your interest are the so-called Redguards who keep trying to get a glimpse at you while approaching closer. You don't like the look on their faces and move quickly inside. Or try to anyway but are stopped by a pair of reptiles with wings.

"Hey, you made it back! Did you find Ancano? Did you give him our message?"

"Yep. Gotta go."

You push past them, not eager to figure out what the hell kind of discussion you had with these monsters.

The bar is full of the college masters and students. Along with what appear to be important officials. None look happy to be here. Except of course Hamrys and Nenny the sensate.

The man you expect is the jarl in particular looks upset.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this headmaster. Remember our deal."

"I remember my lord. We'll take every precaution and keep him out of the town."

"What about my bar?" Another man lurks behind the jarl, appearing even more upset. "How can I keep this place going without that fiery freak?"

"As we said sir, we have various magical objects that you can use at your disposal. I believe they can substitute for the time being. Of course, you'll have to think of a name other than "smoldering corpse."

The jarl sighs. "Well, I suppose there's no point in delaying the inevitable. Let's wake him up."

"Yes of course, my lord." The headmaster turns to a squat old woman who appears familiar to you for some reason. "Mebbeth, you have the decanter of endless water?"

"Aye, I've got it. But I don' reckon I feel safe getting to close. Don' want t' be caught by any major outburst. Hey, yeh! Scarred man! Reckon yeh had s'mthing to do with this. Why don' yeh do the honors?"

You look about, hoping she's referring to someone else. But everyone's eyes are focused on you and you resign yourself to your duty. You walk forward ignoring the stares and let her lean forward to whisper in your ear.

"Now listen here child, and listen well. T' wake the bastard up, yeh just need to dump water from this thing onto him."

She can't see. Probably not the time to take notice of that. But hey, you noticed.

"Yeh got it? Now go wake him up. Be ready t' run if need be however. He's got an itchy finger."

You walk up to the center of the grill in the middle of the room. Above it floats the burning man you apparently convinced the headmaster into waking up, all to get some information about a mystical hand.

"What the hell was I thinking," you mutter to yourself. That's when you are stopped by a bruised woman wrapping her arms around you and giving a squeezing hug.

"Wha…"

"Thank you. Thank you! The lady bless your heart. You did it. Just as I asked. All the others, they failed. But you. You go up there. Less than a week later, they're freeing my beloved. And it's all thanks to you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

"No problem…."

"Now go. Release him! Let my lover gaze on me with his eyes again! Let me bask in the warmth of his love!"

You'd be more worried about the warmth of his flames. Frankly, you're astonished anyone thinks this guy is alive. But orders are orders. You step up to the grill and look again at your patient.

This thing, this charred corpse hovers in the air. The flames have reduced him to a skeleton. His eyes give the appearance of someone lost in his mind. You inwardly curse yourself for ever seriously considering waking this madman up. Yet you lean in still.

"Hello?"

No response. He doesn't give any indication of having heard you at all.

"Look, I don't know if you can hear me. But I'm here to wake you up. So…. please don't kill me immediately, ok?"

Still no response. You look at the headmaster who gives a little nod. You look at the woman who hugged you who gives you an enthusiastic nod. And then you look around at the various people lining the bar who look like they've just soiled themselves.

With that you shrug and turn back to the corpse. You lean in and pour water from the decanter onto him. You take a step back and witness the water that has dripped onto the grill rising as steam.

"Huh. Disappointing. I thought-"

BOOM

A furious crackling noise rushes from the grill, spilling over you and forcing you to cover your ears and turn away. There is a terrible sound like a hundred buildings burning, people shouting and cries being cut short by the roar of flame.

As you put your hands over your ears to block out the sound, you meet a stickiness on your hands. Your ears are bleeding from the sound. You draw your hands back to see them covered with chunks of melted flesh!

And throughout this entire horrifying experience, you hear a mad cackle, ringing out over the bar.

Finally the noise stops. All but the cackle which continues to reverberate throughout the room. You slowly rise to your feet. A difficult task after what you've just experienced. You can hear other people still crying out from the shock. You hear the panic and fear. But right now, only one voice matters. The voice of laughter and madness delighting in the carnage.

Standing unsteadily on your feet, you look forward to the floating creature staring at you. The flames still trail from his body. But his eyes. His eyes now stare at you, flickering at you like two torches.

"I know you…."

The creature's face splits, charred flesh peeling away from his jaw so that he might speak. "Yesssssss.." His voice cracks, burns, roars through the creature's chest and with every word, flakes of cinder and ash spits from his mouth and drifts into the air. You can barely stand to look at the thing- the blazing radiance surrounding him is terrible to behold.

"Ignus…"

"Yessssssss.." The creature floats toward me, the air bending from the thermals surrounding him. "Long have I slept dreamssssssss of flamessssss…." As if in response, flames curl within Ignus' throat, and a tongue of flame streams from behind his blackened teeth. "I am yoursssssss… 'til death comessssss for ussss both."

"Uh…. Cool?"

…

"So…. you wanna talk?"

Hamrys shakes his head no. That in itself is remarkable. You finally got him to stop talking. Halleluiah!

Of course, it's hard to find any sense of satisfaction after what just happened. No one died from the raging inferno. But there were plenty of burns to both inhabitants and the bar. Fortunately, the mages were prepared for such an event and managed to prevent any fatal injuries.

Well, almost all injuries. The woman who hugged you. Drusilla. Ignus' lover. She gave up everything to stay by his side, awaiting his return. She was too close. Quell says you survived because of enchantments placed on you. Drusilla had no such protection. She bore the full blunt of the flames. She died smiling, tearful, burnt alive.

You and your fellow students (minus some third-person talking cat who apparently activated the hand) are cleaning up the mess from Ignus' awakening. You can save some furniture, but overall the place has seen its last legs.

It's not really your concern. But you feel regret regardless. You gave the headmaster this idea and it cost the town dearly. Now the source of their despair has woken up and put their uncertain lives in mortal danger.

You can see him in your mind, his eyes staring into your soul. Such madness. Such hatred, Such familiarity. You don't know how. But you know that…. thing.

They're at the college now. The jarl refuses to let them discuss in the town. That was part of the deal. It's been close to an hour now, and there's still no sign of them. The tension does not get easier with time.

"How do you reckon they're doing up there?"

Nenny's usual cheerful voice is now sullen and worried. You can't blame her. That fiasco was enough to affect anyone.

"Take a guess," Brelyna responds. Hamrys merely nods, still in contemplation.

Everyone is on edge, fearful, unsure what's going to happen next.

While no one says it out loud, you get the feeling they partially blame you. The sad thing is, you blame yourself too. Everyone is terrified for their lives. Except those winged reptiles who cornered you at the entrance. They keep giving you sidelong grins, proud of the cloud of fear.

"I'm sorry."

It's quiet. Barely a whisper. But you say it regardless. The others don't respond. You wonder if they've heard you.

"Child. A word with yeh?"

The old woman Mebbeth. She may be blind, but she someone knows right where you are.

"We've been talking for some time now and well we've come t' an agreement... o sorts."

You nod for her to go on.

"Our.. friend says he knows of something that may counteract the effects o the hand and keep it contained. Another part of Vecna. His eye."

"Wait." Brelyna becomes angry. "The hand is bad enough. Now he wants to bring in another body bit!? Is he crazy!?"

"Well… yes. His slumber has not done him any favors for his sanity. He's only grown more obsessed with flames and power. But we did find a way o sorts t' calm him down."

"Douse him with water?"

She smiles a little. "No actually. Quite the opposite. Talk about flames."

Brelyna stares at her like she's listening to a crazy person. "Come again?"

"Flames and burning are all he lives for dearie. The only way t' keep his attention is t' sprinkle in little ol mentions o fire t' keep him enthralled."

"Wow." Brelyna shakes her head. "Just wow."

"There's crazier stuff on the planes dearie. Though yeh'd have t' look far t' find it."

"Ok, so you got his attention. Then what? You said something about an agreement."

"Well, yes. Of sorts." She looks uncomfortable.

"He don' know where this eye be. But he read something up on a place where he could potentially find the eye. Down south lies the Dwemer ruins of Mzulft. He claims there's some kind o map that could point one to the eye."

"So his brilliant plan is to bring an equally dangerous artifact to our premises? What's to stop someone from using it as well?"

"According t' him, the hand has grown unstable now that it's been tampered with by that dumb cat. Without an equally powerful weapon, it could destroy the town and college. In theory, both could cancel each other out."

"In theory!? We're basing this on a theory!?"

"It's all we've got dearie. He's willing t' acquire it f us and leave this college and town alone forever. Something bout wasted tinder." She pauses and takes a deep breath.

"But it's an agreement. In return, he goes with company." She pauses again.

"Yeh dearie."

Of course she's looking at you.

"Why am I not surprised? What's his reason?"

"He senses power in yeh dearie. He don' think any of you could handle the flames. He wants t' travel with yeh alone to the observatory. He said he's willing to follow yeh're orders alone and no one else's."

"No! Insane!"

Hamrys has spoken up again. This time to everyone's surprise.

"He can't go alone with that freak! He forgets every day! It's too dangerous!"

"I have a diary. As long as I have that, I can remember right?"

"But you're not strong enough! No! He should go with one of the masters!"

"We tried dearie, we really did. But he won' take anyone else. Only yeh."

"No! I refuse!"

"It's not your choice to make Hamrys. It's mine. It looks like the only choice right now."

"But-"

"We have no other leads. And we can't leave that thing unchecked. Nor can we leave him here. This gets one problem out of the town."

"What if he kills you?"

You think hard.

"You claim I can do magic no other student here can do. If I can something things from hell or wherever, I can keep this nutso under check."

With a deep breath, you turn to Mebbeth and say. "I'll do it."

She looks at you with some mixture of uncertainy and pride. The rest look at you with confusion and worry.

"You'd really do that? For us?" Brelyna is incredulous. "We met you a few days ago, and you can't remember most of it!"

"I know no other life than this. No other home. If this is what it takes to protect it, I'll take the risk. After all," you smile. "How else do you learn magic without risks?"

Mebbeth then smiles and takes your hand.

"Oh child. I had yeh pegged for bad blood. I'm glad I was wrong."

Nenny and Brelyna actually give you hugs whispering thank you. Hamrys remains where he is, looking saddened.

"I'm so glad I left the festhall!" Nenny starts crying. "How else would I have met such remarkable people?"

Screams wade in from outside, followed by a roar.

"And.. a dragon?"

You all dash outside. In the sky, a great black mass circles overhead. It shouts and pours ice down onto the already devastated community. People run left and right, trying to avoid the falling shards of frost.

"Damn it all! First Ignus, now a dragon?"

"Is there no rest for our poor town?"

"It's the scarred man! He brought this onto us! Curse him!"

This last shout is said by one of the Redguard men who had been watching you warily earlier. He shouts and rushes at you but is blown back by a spell from Mebbeth.

"Close yeh're mouth whippersnapper! This be an emergency! All warriors, take up arms! All yeh sissies, do us a favor and take one for the team!"

Once again the only "people" not panicking are the scaly reptiles. They merely point and whisper amongst themselves excitedly.

"So it's true. Our old enemies have returned."

"At such an opportune moment. Could this be fate?"

"It appears Ancano's waiting is over. Our time has come!"

You look at Mebbeth, trying to gauge if she heard any of that. She doesn't give any indication and continues to bark orders.

"Come on dearies! Time t' put yeh're skills to the test! I let yeh all into the college for a reason. Prove I made the right choice!"

Hamrys arises from his stupor and summons his giant tusked friend.

"No time for talking, Dimtree! Sic him!"

You think you hear the beast whisper "thank the lady," before throwing objects at the great circling monstrosity.

Brelyna summons sparks from her hands while Nenny whispers some strange words.

Immediately, you're all blown off your feet.

"What the hell, Nenny?"

"Oops, sorry. I merely wanted to experience J'zargo's new spells!"

Brelyna looks at her shocked.

"Spells from the guy who put us in this mess? You're… what? His guinea pig?"

"Well, yes. I suppose? He wanted me to try some of his spells on the undead. I haven't gotten that chance, but I figured a dragon, would do just as well!"

You rush out into the streets. No magic appears to be working. It's too fast. Without really thinking, you try something else. You shout the word you found in your journal

"FO!"

Of course it doesn't hit the bastard. But it does appear to get his attention. He turns and looks at the source of the shout. Making you out amidst the crowd, he turns and swoops towards you.

"Ah, a real genius dearie! Now he's comin after us! Way to use yeh're head."

You dodge out of the way and the beast rams into the inn. While he's disoriented you run up with the mace strapped to your side.

"Now! While he's off! Wack him in the crack!"

"Oh! Such dirty talk! The sensates would be furious!"

You don't have time to respond to that as the beast looks behind at you before you can hit him and breathes frosty death. You dodge and take refuge in the nearby alley.

"You think to use my own weapon against me? You are no dovah."

"What's a dovah? And who's he talking to?" Brelyna shouts out confused.

"I think," Hamrys says incredulously. "He's talking to him."

You dodge another blast of cold air. You duck out through the alley before he sticks his head in and snaps you up.

Great, so the bastard is after you now. Why? Because you yelled some magic spell at him? You keep running, not seeing where you're going and run into the other winged reptiles.

"You guys aren't related to that, are you? Long lost cousins?"

"Oh no. Not at all old friend. We have a desire to see it brought down. Take a stand with us here. We'll bring it down together! Show these puny mortals the power of baatezu!"

You turn to face the beast landing down right a few feet away from you. He starts to strut towards you, appearing to grimace at the sight of the so-called baatezu.

"You little morsels still exist? I give you credit for persistence. I have a message for your master. The great serpent coward. Tell him his lord Alduin has not forgotten his betrayal. Tell him all baatezu must bend the knee or be consumed with this mortal scum."

"Funny. We too have a message from our so-called cowardly master. He says your master can stick it where the sun don't shine. He says he should have remained in whatever hell he crawled out of. Our master has grown strong abomination, while you slept in your graves!"

The dragon seems to grin and opens his mouth to take another shot.

"Move!"

You all do just that. And just in time as the blast from the dragon collides with a giant fireball. Both cause a massive burst and cancel each other out.

"What isssssssssss thissssssss? Ice? What have you done to thissssss place? Bastard!"

You turn in shock to see the smoldering corpse you just woke up launching fireballs at the dragon in fiery anger. Behind him, the leading mages of the college and the jarl stand back, afraid to get close.

The dragon roars in pain, taking to the sky and trying to evade the volley of flames. Or as Ignus calls them, flamesssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!

"You dare touch thissssss town? Thissssss hollow ground of flamesssssssssss? You, a beast of flamesssssssssssss insult me with ice!? You will burn! Everything will burn! Burn!"

You imagine it's quite a strange sight for the townsfolk. The pyromaniac who reduced this town to rubble now defending it from an equal threat. The dragon from on high tries to respond the heat with his inner frost, but is no match for the madman's rage.

In his desperation, he crashes into a building and falls to the ground stunned.

You take the chance, running up with your mace and stabbing him behind the eyes. He roars and takes to the sky with you holding on for dear life.

You get a strange sense of déjà vu. What's that about?

It's too late for the dragon however. Ignus summons a mighty ball of death, summoned from his fiery core and launches it with all his hate at the gaping wound you made.

Bam! Right in the face. The proud beast is reduced to a sobbing puppy, trying hopelessly to fly away but ending up landing down outside of town.

The crash sends you falling to the ground. You turn to look at the dragon, whose skin, ironically begins to burn away. You don't know if this is from Ignus' flames, but before the flesh disappears, you can make out absolute terror in the beast's eyes.

You feel something flow into. Some powerful force, that feels alive. You feel a sense of awareness fill your being.

You stand there, trying to take in what happened. Until you feel the intense heat behind you.

You turn to see him, and the entire town staring at your victory. Your triumph over the legend of old. Shock resides over their faces. For most of them, you suspect it's their first time seeing dragons. You know it's yours for sure!

Ignus has no shock. No fear. He stares hard at you, his torch-like eyes seeing into your soul. After a long intense stare, he nods.

"Yesssssssssss. You are my master. You carry the flamesssssssssssss. I will follow til death comesssssssssss for usssssssssss both. Master."

"Uh… cool?"

…

"Have yeh written down the map?"

"Yes you old bat."

"What'd yeh say, yeh whippersnapper!?"

"Yes Mebbeth. Thank you."

She gives you a funny look, but pats your head and walks away looking over her shoulder for what you suspect might be your last look at each other.

"Take these books," Mirabelle Irvine hands you several. "Make sure to look them over. Practice whenever you can. And steer clear of parties. You don't want… him to have any outbursts."

"I imagine I'm in the greatest danger of anyone right now."

"Indeed. Remember. He exists for fire. If he starts to get out of control, try mentioning something burning. It might calm him down."

You snort. "If you say so."

"And remember, use letters. Let us know what you find out from these ruins. If you find anything."

"Right."

"And.." She pauses. "We haven't known each other all that long. But it's been an honor calling you a student."

"Likewise, my young friend." The headmaster walks forward. "Whatever happens, know that you always have a home here at the college. We hope once this mess is sorted out that you will make it your home."

"Got nowhere better to be, sir."

He nods and steps back allowing your horse to begin to walk forward, Ignus floating right in pace with it.

You pass the townspeople, most of them give you some small looks of sympathy and some even make small gestures indicating thanks. With the exception of two groups. The redguards who look at you with disgust, and the scaly reptiles apparently called abishai who look at you with amusement and interest.

Out at the gate leading out of town, you meet your fellow classmates. You stop and get off your horse for what might be your final farewells.

"Oh my dear friend," Nenny hugs you dearly. "It's been less than a week. But I feel like I've known you for a lifetime. Do return to us. I so hope to have more experiences with you."

"I will Nenny. I look forward to them."

She nods and backs away sobbing. Brelyna comes forward, looking awkward.

"Take care out there. Watch out for Stormcloaks. They say they have Skyrim's best interests at heart. That's… a lie. And careful in those ruins. The Dwemer may be gone, but I hear they left some nasty traps behind."

"And," she leans in close. "Be especially careful of… him."

"You got it. Keep the town safe. Don't let anyone else mess with that thing."

"Right."

"And tell the headmaster to keep an eye on those abishai. They're up to something. I don't know what, but I think it has something to do with Ancano."

She looks surprised by that. But nods her head in understanding and steps aside for you.

That leaves Hamrys. He looks uncertain what to say.

"This isn't goodbye Hamrys."

"I know I…. You'll do great out there. You're a great mage. You proved that today. I just wish… I could come with you."

"We'll have time for other adventures together. Just not today." You place a hand on his shoulder.

"So hold the fort and wait for me… buddy."

He smiles and grasps your hand in response. Then stands aside.

"Are we ready," Ignus asks impatiently.

You nod and clamber up onto your provided horse. You take one last look back at your equally odd friends, take a deep breath and then command your horse to ride.

"Come!" Ignus cackles. "The flamessssssssssssss await! All life shall be torchesssssssssssss!"

You ride on, you the scarred amnesiac and the smoldering deranged corpse, keeping pace with your steed as he floats on, held aloft by whatever dark power keeps him alive. You turn and wave at your fellow students, and smile for reassurance. Deep down however, you can only think one thought.

"I'm so f*cked."

 


	13. Nordom

You hate it. You really hate it. You can't believe you signed up for this. You're going mad.

"Sssssssssso cold. No flamessssssssss here."

"This is Skyrim Ignus. It's always cold."

"Bah! Ridicolousssssssssss. When Ignusssssssss isssssss done, all will be burning! Pure!"

You grasp your head in your hands. This is how it is the entire trip.

Well, not entirely. There have been some moments where you've run into so-called Stormcloak soldiers. They yell and charge at you like they know you. Or maybe they just don't like the look of you. Judgmental bastards! Judging you for your scared skin and your partner's charred appearance. Oh, and the fact he's covered in flames. And likes to chase after them, laughing maniacally while hurling flaming balls of death that incinerate them.

Come to think of it, they might have good reason to judge you after all.

Fortunately, you don't run into many people. Most of the time is spent with your horse running alongside Ignus. You do have to call him back when he appears to be wandering off. Especially around vegetation.

"Ignus! Stay away from the ironwood!"

"Nnnnnnnoooooooo! Must burnnnnnnnnn."

"Not now, Ignus! Not now! We have to find the eye of Vecna, remember? You promised to follow my orders right? And I order you to stay on track!"

"But the flamessssssssssss!"

That's pretty much how every day goes.

You have to pass the town of Windhelm. Brelyna told you to stay as far away from that town as possible. She would know. She came from it.

Unfortunately, you run into a particularly large camp of Stormcloak soldiers. You of course tried to sneak by. But when you're accompanied by what is essentially a living torch, that no longer becomes an option.

As the soldiers run away, you too take off in the opposite direction, knowing they'll return with reinforcements. It does take a bit of convincing to get Ignus to give up his fiery pursuit and follow you.

Looking over your shoulder, you get a glimpse of a dark elf moving a cart of strange metal parts. Her eyes widen upon seeing you, almost like she knows you. She shouts something out, but you're too far away by that point to hear.

"I had them," Ignus shrieks angrily. "You denied me tinder!"

Fun times.

The days aren't helped by the fact that you're struggling to stay awake. You barely get any sleep with this nutcase.

Oh sure, Ignus provides plenty of heat, but you need to keep one eye open at all times out of fear he goes berserk and singes you again. Your fingers still hurt from his awakening.

Your second night, you start to doze off finally, before Ignus starts cackling in delight.

"Hahahahahahahahahahaha! Dead! Tinder! Burnnnnnnn!"

Off in the distance, you see what looks like a woman. Ignus goes charging after her trying to hit her with fireballs. As he gives chase, the figure drops a piece of parchment.

You pick it up. It appears to be a single word. TIID.

"Insect ran. Evaded itssssss desssssssstiny. Denied me the pleasure….." Ignus comes floating back. It's hard to make his expressions out, but he sounds disappointed.

"Well, uh. You tried. Way to go."

He gives a sound of frustration. You bite your lip. Need to keep him calm…

"I mean.. way to burn."

He seems happier at that. He floats back to where he was before. Only now he seems to be bobbing somewhat.

The next night, when you've put some distance between you and Windhelm, you decide to strike up some conversation. You don't know how much longer you're going to be stuck with this berk. But if you're going to get through this partially whole, you've got to build some respect and trust.

"So…. Ignus…. Tell me about yourself."

He looks at you, confused.

"What?" He doesn't speak this so much as he hisses it, like sizzled meat. You find it very annoying.

"Well, how did you end up as you are. What… made you this way?"

"Ignusssssssss hassssssss alwayssssssss been thissssssssss way."

You raise an eyebrow.

"Really? You've always been like this?"

"Yessssssssssss."

He pauses.

"Yessssssssssss. Ignussssssssss has alwayssssssssss existed thisssssssssss way."

"Really? You sure? I know that might sound annoying having that repeated again, but it seems unlikely that you were pulled out of the womb on fire."

"Thissssssssssss way…" A small pocket of flesh on Ignus' cheek popped, and ran in a steaming trickle down his jaw. "Thissssssssssss way… Ignussssssssssss alwaysssssssss wassssssssssss."

"But… you look human. Or at least, you look like you were human once."

Ignus twists, hunching his head forward as his body spins slowly above the ground. The effect is much like a fiery whirlwind, thermals streaming off his body and distorting the air around him.

"Ssssssstill Ignussss… alwaysssssss Ignussss."

You give up and decide to resign yourself to sleep, but as you close your eyes, he speaks again.

"Ignusssssss might you be…sssss'parksssssss in bodiesssssssssss, alwayssssssss ssssseeking to rise."

"Sparks in bodies?"

"All thingssssssss burnnnnnn… inssside…" Ignus' head cranes back and he throws his arms wide, spirals of flame and heat travelling up his limbs. "Only need to be kindled with flamessssssss to be Ignussssss… ssso might you have been Ignusssssss."

You take a minute to let that soak in. It's bonkers.

"Actually," you have to tread carefully. "If you try to kindle the flames within people, you usually end up killing them."

"Yesssssssss…" Ignus grins, cocking his head to one side, ashes falling from his skull and being swept up in the flaming wreath that surrounds him.

"Uh… Ok. So anyway-"

"Hssssssssssss!" Your heart jumps as Ignus soars several feet into the air, flames licking at the ceiling. His jaw tears open, fiery trail spilling forth like a nest of snakes. "No more talk and quesssstionsssssss! Sssssilence…"

Well, you tried.

…

According to your journal (which you have to read every day to remind yourself why you're traveling with a whack job), the ruins of Mzulft contain some kind of map which will lead you to an ancient evil artifact that will allow you to combat the equally ancient evil artifact back home.

And as if that isn't a shock to wake up to everyday, this whole thing was apparently your idea! What kind of idiot are you!?

The ruins are built into a mountainside lining the eastern side of the land of Skyrim. A big gold door marks their entrance.

You get a feeling of dread which is not helped once you step through the door and come face to face with corpses. All of them dressed in red armor with cowls hanging over their faces.

"Inssssectsssssss. ….. Good for nothing. ….. Not even tinder."

You take a closer look at the bodies. You search them and find similar attire… And wounds.

"Some kind of little club that came here for something. Think they came to find this map you spoke of?"

"Isssssss possssssible. ….. But they failed. ….. Sssssssomething found them firsssssst."

He takes another look and grins. "And ate their brainssssssss."

He's right. It looks like something tore open their head and removed the grey matter within. No. Not removed. Violently devoured. Apparently while the victims were still conscious. You cringe.

"I thought these ruins were abandoned. The Dwemer dead."

"Not Dwemer. Not Dwemer."

You jump in the air. Apparently, one of these strangely dressed explorers is still (barely) alive.

You kneel in front of him. He's beyond your help, and doesn't have much time left.

"What happened? Who are you?"

"No time. Crystal gone. Find… the modron… in Oculory. Tell it the director is dead." His eyes fade.

"What crystal? What's the Oculory? And.. what the hell is a modron?"

Too late. He dies, right in front of you.

"Blassssst. ….. He could have burnnnnnned! He could have been ssssssaved!"

You somehow doubt he would have taken that as saving.

"Oculory… Think that might be what we came here for?"

He thinks long and hard.

"Remember little before the flamesssssss awoke…... But remember mention of machine. Find losssst thingsssssss."

"What about a crystal?"

"I know not. But musssst find, ssssssso I may introduce this place to the flamesssssssss."

"Right…. Sounds like a plan. Let's find this crystal, this Oculory, and this… modron before whatever did this to these guys finds us."

"Let them. They will burnnnnnnn assssss well."

For once, you hope he's right.

But even more, you hope that you don't have to encounter anything.

And for a time, you don't. Well, except for the welcoming gifts the Dwemer left behind.

"Do not touch the platesssssssss. Dangerous."

"Yes, yes. I heard you."

"Yet, sssssssstill you sssssssssssssstepped on it."

"Once. Once!"

"Twice."

"Ok, twice! But I've got it now. No plates."

You should be more careful, but you're so enthralled by the machines and gears in action all around you, you let yourself be a little more careless than usual.

Ignus can't say the same.

"Dissssgussssssting machinessssssssss….. Nothing to burnnnnnnnnn… No beauty….. No peace….. Too much noissssssse!"

"Really? You aren't at all fascinated by this? Look around! I've never seen technology like this! Or maybe I have. I can't remember!"

"Once, Ignusssssss had a love for machinery, for knowledge….. Before the flamesssssss….. Before… him…"

"Him?" You try to press but Ignus doesn't appear to want to go on with that line of thought. He seems almost… haunted.

"Well, what do you know about these Dwemer? They look like they were pretty advanced."

"Yesssssss….. The mossssssst. ….. Deep elvesssssss. ….. Made many thingssssssssss. ….. Dangerous thingssssssss. ….. Powerful thingssssssss. ….. To fight the godsssssss…..."

"The gods? They wanted to fight the gods?"

"Ignusssssss caresssssss not. They burnnnnned…..." He makes a sound that sounds like him giggling.

"Burnnnnnnned. The mountain! The Red Mountain! Dissssssapeared! They are all flamessssssss! Assssss all shall be."

"They burned? At a mountain?"

Their thingsssssss remain. ….. Uselessssss ugly thingsssssss. ….. Non-flammable. Someday, Ignus will burnnnnnnnn them all!….Starting with that insssssect!"

Your head snaps around. As he said, a little metallic thing in the shape of a spider is scurrying at you, looking to leap. Or it is, before Ignus intervenes.

"Return to assssssh! Burnnnnnn! All of you!"

"What do you mean all of you? There's onl- Oh crap!"

Nope. There's more than one. A lot more. Where the hell did they come from?

No time! You began to rush deeper into the ruins, before they overrun you.

Well, in all honesty, your real fear is that Ignus is going to have too much fun burning everything in his sight and accidentally burn you.

"Yesssssss! Burnnnnnn! Ignussssssssss will kill you all! Ignussssssssss will kill everything!"

"Ignus will be killed if he doesn't get his ass over here! Move it!"

He gives an annoyed grumble, but does float over in your direction, burning every spider in his way. You stare amazed as his fireballs ricochet everywhere, including the machines. His heat is so intense, it actually causes them to show signs of melting.

You and Ignus run until you arrive at another big golden door. You hurry through and once on the other side began to push it closed. But not before the spiders arrive.

You try to push the doors closed, but there's too many pushsing back.

"Ignus! Ignus, help me shut this thing!"

"Help? Ignussssss wassssssss not aware you wanted hissssss help….."

"Oh for the love of- Burn!"

He grins, and raises his hands, happy to oblige.

A stream of fire erupts from his palms, gliding through the crack in the door and scorching the spiders, buying you enough time to fully shut and lock it.

You place your hands on your knees, breathing heavily. After a moment, you look up to see Ignus grinning at you.

"Ignusssssss wassssssss right….. Sssssssssse ssssssssparksssssss in you…. Ignussssssss might you be…."

…

As the two of you press on, you began to leave the Dwemer machinery and wind up in a cave with vegetation and moss.

"Yesss. Plenty to burn here."

"Not now Ignus. You said it yourself. First the location of the eye, then the flames."

He smiles.

"You learnnnnn."

You roll your eyes but say nothing. Whatever keeps him content.

You walk for around 5 minutes then come upon another door beyond which the caves transition back to ruins again. You have to admit, the layout of these ruins is bizarre.

Ever wary (especially of your partner, who ironically should make you feel more at ease), you sit down for a moment on a nearby stone bench. You can't help but take notice of two more corpses with the same outfits at the entrance. Real relaxing, you gotta admit.

You look at your "friend" hovering about, glaring at the surroundings with annoyance. You get the feeling he's about to try and burn the whole place prematurely. So like a good "friend", you intervene.

"So, Ignus. Got time to talk?"

"Sssssssilence….. Do not sssssspeak….."

You sigh. Guess there's only one way to do this.

"Ok… Ignus, I wish to speak of flames and burning."

That catches his attention.

"Flamessssssss…. Burning….. Ignusssssss will hear you…"

"So, um…" Your journal says your last attempt at discussing Ignus' past ended in failure, but you decide to take another go.

"Ssssssspeak. Ignussssss growssssssss tired of your prattle."

"Oh, right, sorry. Anyway…. What the f*ck is that?"

He mumbles, annoyed. Then turns around to follow your fingers. You really did want to have a genuine discussion, but that is no longer possible because of the monstrosity that just walked down the hall.

It looks humanoid, but for its tentacled octopus-like head. It looks at you, seeming surprised by the oddity of the two intruders, but quickly raises its hand presumably to cast some kind of curse. Fortunately (and you can't believe you're grateful for this), Ignus is faster and with a lob of flame scorches the thing to dust. In its death throes, it lets out a piercing shreak that seems to reverberate off the walls.

"Was that… a Dwemer?"

"Nnnnnoooooooooooooooooooo! Imbecile! Dwemer were fair… Mammal… This was ssssssslimy…. Cold….. livesssssssss in the darknesssssssss….." He grins as an added afterthought. "Itssssss kind may not yet know of flamessssssss…. That will change…"

If you weren't so repulsed by the thing's appearance, you might feel sorry for its kind. They pissed off the wrong mage.

Fortunately for them (and you), you go by for a bit without seeing anything. You're not entirely sure that's a good thing, because you've got this strange voice in your head, urging you to… well it's not clear. It's in some language you don't understand, which is probably for the best.

"Ignus. Hey, Ignus. I think something's trying to speak to me telepathically."

He doesn't respond, instead talking to himself as usual. You sigh.

"Ignus, are you thinking about burning?"

"Burnnnnnnnn… Yessssss… I agree… Burnnnnnn…"

"Hello? Planes to Ignus? Hello? Woah!"

You jump out of the way as Ignus launches a ball of fire at your feet. He launches one after another, causing you to take cover behind a nearby pillar.

This is it. He's finally lost it. They warned you this may happen, but they couldn't come up with anything that might contain him. You think you might have something though that can.

"FO!"

With one word, you unleash an icy wind upon the living torch. A Song of Ice and Fire, if you will.

Your hopes that he'll remain frozen in place fail as his rage proves too hot to be contained by your pitiful breath. Worse, it only appears to make him angrier.

"Crap. Ignus! Ignus! Stop! I command you to stop!"

He of course does not. He doesn't say anything. In fact, he doesn't move like himself. The way he wields his arms looks like a puppet on strings.

"Ignus! I think it's that voice, telling you to do this. You have to fight it, fight it!"

Damn. He's still not listening, still volleying.

You duck into the nearby hallway, trying to look through your journal and find something that might help. You know you can't beat him with magic, so you have to try another means.

"F*ck. F*ck. F*ck. What do I do? What do I do? Whadyidu?"

That last word is not a misnomer. It's quite a pathetic sight. You running with your head burried in a book away from the rampaging pyromaniac. Of course, there's no mention of how to calm him down, or even kill him. You are such a fool to not have considered that!

You can only think of one thing. Another shout you've been practicing during your long arduous travel with the burning man.

"TIID!"

Time stops. Well, not entirely. It slows. Everything does. Including you and your estranged companion. Damn. You don't get the usefulness of such a power if it slows everything, including you.

At least your brain doesn't slow down. But even with the extra time, you can't think of anything that might calm him down. Maybe….

And… too late. Time has sped back to normal. And with it, the nutso on fire.

Guess that's it for you then. You don't even realize where you're going or what you're doing, and thus don't see the creatures, until you run smack into them.

"Let go of me, you tentacled freaks! I'm not into Hentai!"

They don't appear to understand. Nor do they appear to care. They simply block your way, doing some weird chant, as your "ally" comes charging to give you a nice tan.

Without thinking, you duck to the side as Ignus lets loose another fireball and ends up burning the creatures. They scream their ungodly scream as their skin bubbles and melts.

At that exact moment, Ignus chooses to come back to his senses (Wait, what senses?). He stares around, unsure then turns towards you and the squid heads.

"Ssssssscum! Usssssing Ignusssssss' flamesssssssssss! Burnnnnnnnn, all of you!"

"Yes! Thank you Lady of pain, for this loose cannon of fire!" You can't believe you said that.

The creatures run away in agony, their attempts to respond no match for the mad mage's relentless onslaught. You grin from the sideline, giving a little hoot for you crazy partner.

As he delivers infernal retribution on the monsters, you take a look about to notice more corpses in similar attire to those at the entrance strewn about the floor. All of their brains devoured as well.

"Charming." You happen then to notice one of them clutching some kind of key. You pick it up and examine it. You notice another clutching some kind of crystal. It must be the one the guy at the entrance talked about.

"Masssssssster…. I am sorry… The slimy onesssssssssss…. They took over my mind….."

"Don't worry about it. Let's keep moving. I get the sense we're close."

…

You finally find a door. Judging by the number of corpses, you suspect this is where this group has been trying to reach and eventually defend.

"Guess we're here."

You push on the door, only to find it locked. You examine the key in your hand and turn it in the lock.

You slowly push it open. You find another hall leading to a larger room. You let Ignus float in and then shut and lock the door behind you.

The room ahead contains a large stationary device. Light shines from a dias on top. The ceiling is lined with panels.

"Thisssssssss issssssssss it… The map to the eye…."

You find a flight of stairs. You follow them up to the top and come face to face with the strangest thing you've seen all day. And that's saying a lot.

You see a cube with four arms and two legs; despite its mechanical appearance, the front of the cube is a strange, organic green face, with two wide, elliptical eyes. The cube doesn't seem to notice you. It is staring intently at a row of buttons in front of it, clearly unsure how to respond. A multi-faceted lens dangles from the upper left corner of the cube; it looks like it's designed to pop down over one of the cube's eyes like a scope.

"Uh….greetings..?"

The cube chrrrups and there is a klik-klik-klik as its eyes blink wildly. The cube whirls to face you, its eyes wide, then flings its two free hands up in the air as if in surrender… Yet the two crossbows in its hands have turned and are now trained on you. In a strange detached way, you can't help but notice that every joint on this creature seems to be a series of whirrrrrrring gears and cogs.

"Usssssssssselessssssssssss… Let me burnnnnnnnn!"

"Hold on Ignus. Maybe it knows how to work this device."

The cube has turned its back to you and is now staring at its crossbows intently.

"Do not need! Do not need backwardsssssssssssssss modron!"

"What the hell's a backwards modron?"

"Backwards modron= Nordom?"

You jump in surprise, as the cube is now staring at you again; its mouth forming a bizarre sideways semi-circle, which you take to be a smile. "Gratitudes! Gratefuls!"

"Uh… I'm sorry?"

"Not sorries null sorries. Gratitudes! Idemnification of self compromised by doubtings + mullings + analysis." The cube chrrrrrrups again and its eyes blink with a klik.

"….Don't follow." Behind you, you hear Ignus hiss in annoyance.

"Idemnification of this unit was compromised. Subject addressee indeminified unit as Nordom. Gratitudes tendered for providing Nordom idemnification."

"Uh….. sure no problem."

"Yesssssssssssssss problem! No time for thisssssssssssssssss machine! Let ussssssssss finisssssssssssh our missssssssssssion!"

Nordom's eyes klik some more then turn to "Real-eye-zation reached: Nordom null know name of addressee. Idemnify yourself."

"Sssssssssilence! Not your concern!" You quickly intervene before things get out of hand.

"This is.. Ignus. The….. world expert on flames and burning."

As predicted, Ignus relaxes at that.

"And I… well uh….. I'm just a mage. I don't know my real name."

Nordom's eyes widen, the diameter of his pupils growing back to normal size. He klik blinks once- but the metal shutters that fall across his eyes don't rise. After a moment, they began rattling, as if struck.

"Uh Nordom. You can open your eyes now."

There is another klik and Nordom's eyes open. "Not closing eyes engaged-ged in Actioan Clarification for subject (Unidentified Nameless) Formulating… submitting query. Are you lost?"

Ignus grins at this.

"Uh, what do you mean?"

"Absence of name = Absence of Identity = Absence of Purpose = Absence of place in multiverse = Null State = Loss. Nordom existed in state, Null following termination of former directors, until subject (Unidentified, Nameless) attached identity to Nordom. Null Identity. Null purpose. Null place equates to loss."

"I might have had a name once, but I forgot it."

"Ignusssssssssssss too had a name once… A weak name given by weak inssssssssssectsssssssssss….. He found a new name and a new purposssssssssse."

"Formulating new Query. Explain to Nordom why you performed this action: Forgoting."

"It's a side effect of my… condition, I think."

The metal shutters seal over Nordom's eyes with a whrrr, then he rattles to himself for a few moments with his eyes closed. When they klik open. Nordom chrrups. "Query: Memory defective?"

"You could say that. Every day I wake up with no memories apparently. I have to rely on my journal and my… friends…"

Fortunately neither of them notice the wary look you give Ignus.

"Pre-conditional action to clarify query: Nordom memory space not yet near capacity. Query/action: In event of yes return from subject Nordom can re-remember for you."

"Uh.. sure. Anyway Nordom, I have some stuff to do here. Starting with this map."

Nordom suddenly seems to realize where he is and looks around at the room.

"Analysis: Plane: Tamriel. Location: Ruins of Mzulpft."

"Yeah, we know that Nordom. We need to use this map."

Nordom's eyes began klikking again. You grit your teeth and endure. It still beats Ignus' hissing.

"Query: Idenmnify use for map?"

You ponder how much you ought to let this cube know. Then you see him looking at his crossbows and laugh. Like he could be a threat.

"Follow-up query: Subject response identified as laughter. Analysis: Laughter: Emotional response to phenomena perceived as humorous. Follow-up analysis: Humor: Query-What is definition of humor?"

"Sssssssssssssilence! The masssssssster and I have come to ssssssssssseek the eye! Be ssssssssssssilent, or join the ressssssssssst of the sssssssssssssilent onessssssssssss."

Nordom's eyes blink and klik on and off again. The gears in his cubed head working their magic. Finally just as you think Ignus is about to blow, he responds in his warbled tone.

"Confirmation needed. Subject too seeks eye of Vecna?"

Now it's your turn to blink.

"You're looking for the eye too?

"Explanation/Purpose. Original director desired object known as Eye of Vecna. Current location = Unknown. Main lead = Oculory = eye locator."

"Oculory? Director? Oh that's right! Nordom, the director is dead!"

You realise as you say that, you hadn't considered how Nordom might respond to such news. You watch him with apprehension, while Ignus watches with sudden glee.

"Confirmation confirmed. Director dead. Re-examine priorities. Awaiting new Director/Mission."

You think about the man who told you to relay that mission. His attire, so similar to the rest of the corpses in these ruins.

"Nordom .. those people with the cowls….. did you come here with them?"

"Query requires submitting of chronology. Shall Nordom submit chronology?"

"No! Burnnnnnnnnn!"

"Ignus! Think of Winterhold on fire!"

He giggles at the thought, while you sigh in relief.

"Subject not responding. Repeat: Query requires submitting of chronology. Shall Nordom submit chronology?"

"Huh? Uh, yeah sure. Whatever you just said."

"Orders received upon transferal from Rubikon to dark Brotherhood. Stage First: Arrival at hideout. Stage second: Parameters dictated by dictator. Stage third: Seek information on eye of Vecna. Stage fourth: Secure Oculory. Fifth stage (Disrupted) Director and company terminated by Illithids. Not part of project directives."

"Dark brotherhood? Illithids? What's that?" For some reason, that name rings familiar to you.

"Sssssssss…... Imbecilessssssssssss…. Creaturesssssssssss of darknessssssssssssss…. Dessssssssssspisssssssssse the heat…. Dessssssssspisssssssssssssseeeeeee the fire…. Musssssssssssssst die…"

"…..Ok. Nordom, your definition please."

"Illithids = Mind flayers. Possess powerful psionic abilities. Masters of upper world in ancient times until defeat at hands of Deity Talos."

"Right. Sounds fun. And the Dark brotherhood?"

"Definition: Dark Brotherhood. Secondary title unknown. Underground organization of assassins. Purpose: Terminate subjects upon request by Black Sacrament= Advanced means of communication. Secondary Purpose: Destabilization of local governments. Chaos. Anarchy."

"Sssssssss… Perhapsssssssss Ignusssssssssss missssssjudged them…. Chaossssssssssss meanssssssssssss burninggggggggggg…"

"Right…. So these assassins were your directors?"

"Cowrecked! Nordom modified to carry out m-o-r-d-o-r requests. Wings=Unknown. Crossbows + Nordom = Fearsome cubed warrior!"

You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach and suffocating from the side-splitting laughter.

"Analysis: Subject resorts to laughter as response to stress = Asperger's Syndrome?"

"Heh heh. Heh. Don't be ridiculous. I don't have…. Whatever that is. Just amnesia."

"Enough…. Let ussssssss disssspossssssse of thisssssssssss fake asssssssassssssssssin….. Ssssssssssend it to join the resssssssst…. Here for the eye…"

Damn. You almost forgot the psycho behind you. You bite your lip. Nordom could potentially help, but only if you word it the right way.

"Well, Nordom. Your… directors appear to be dead. But we're here for the same reason they were. We need to find the eye too. Will you….. help us help you fulfill your orders?"

As expected, Nordom's eyes go klickity klick, while he mulls it over.

"Request analyzed. Permission granted. Nordom updating parameters. Assist with search."

"Good." You turn to Ignus's disappointment.

"See, Ignus? Sometimes burning isn't the solution. Sometimes-"

"Burninggggggggg isssss alwaysssssssss the ssssssssolution…"

You sigh then turn your attention back to Nordom, but he's once again focused on the buttons before him.

"Device= Dwemer Oculory. Purpose: Focus starlight. Stage first: Insert focusing crystal. Stage second: Unclear. Focus crystal required."

Your eyes widen. Of course! How could you forget? Well, you could forget pretty easily, but you shouldn't have in this case!

"Did you mean this?"

Nordom's organic green face forms something you think is a smile. His two free hands claim it and place it on the central apparatus in the center of the room.

The device then turns over and a beam of light turns to the top of the ceiling.

"Focusing crystal intact. Stage first complete. Stage second: Locate eye of Vecna artifact. Process = Inaudible. Time required to determine."

In that sentence at least, Nordom makes sense. You do require time. A lot of it while the little cube presses the buttons to match the light beams with the crystals on the walls. It's a long boring time. So boring in fact that you won't go into the details of you using ice and Ignus using fire to expand and contract the crystal or whatever while simultaneously convincing Ignus not to simply burn everything and Nordom makes the most frustrating klikking noises and spends more time looking at his crossbows. Gah! Make it stop!

"Stage second complete."

"Huh, whaaa?" You wake up to see all light beams aligned. A projection of light has been illuminated on the wall behind the device.

The three amigos (just kidding- the three whackadoos who would just as soon kill each other) look at the projection. Ignus hisses in delight.

"Lightsssssssssssss…. Indicationssssssssss of power….. powerful thingssssssssssss…. Dangerousssssssss thingssssssssss…."

You examine closer. As he said, there are several glowing white lights on the projection, which appears to be a map.

"What are we looking at here Nordom?"

"Analysis confirmed. Map of Tamriel plane. Glowing sources = sources of unstable energy. 2 locations confirmed = College of Winterhold + Labyrinthian maze. Energy response observed. Connections? Bonds? College = Labyrinthian? Labyrinthian = College? Error! Error!"

"Thank you Nordom. But I think it's clear what this means. The eye of Vecna is in this place Labyrinthian. So I guess that's where we're going next."

"Location: Labyrinthian = Ancient Dragon Worship temple = Former city of Brojunaar = Ruins."

"Dragonsssssssss… pretenderssssssssss… I will ssssssshow them flamesssssssssss!"

"Can't wait," you say grimly. "Guess that's where we're headed next."

Ignus nods his head and begans to float off towards the exit. You're about to follow when you see Nordom examining his crossbows.

"Thanks for the help Nordom. We couldn't have done it without you."

"Gratitudes. Gratefuls. Subject Nameless Idemnified unit as Nordom. Sense of purpose found. Eye of Vecna located. Stage fifth complete. Stage sixth…. Stage sixth… Undetermined. Director absent to give new orders. Nordom… Nordom purpose unclear."

You stand there watching with some pity at this cube as he looks at his crossbows, klikking and blinking. You stare at him for a long while, knowing you should probably put him out his misery. After all, he services a league of assassins who have probably caused the deaths of thousands.

And yet. You sympathize with that look. It's the look of someone lost. Someone like you, who awakes each day a new man. You imagine it's that look that made Hamrys take pity on you and help you when all reason would have made him leave you in the snow. Acting on that impulse, you speak without thinking.

"Nordom, how would you like some new orders?"

…

You wake up feeling refreshed and well rested. Which is hard to believe considering you slept in the shadow of this awful ruin with the squid heads and the metal spiders. It was even harder still to sleep with the incessant hissing of the man on fire and the klikking of the backwards modron. But once you got over the shock of that and Nordom and the journal had explained everything to you, you set off. Away from the ruins and heading west. From what you've heard, it's been a rough time for you. Not the least of which because of your current company. But you have a goal and nothing is going to stop you in your tracks!

Until you round the bend and come face to face with a dark elf you presume to be Brelyna and a floating skull.

"YOU!" He shouts out loud while charging at you.

"Ow! Stop it! Ow! Quit biting! You're Brelyna right? Help me out here!"

"Actually, I think you deserve it," she says smiling somewhat. "Dragonborn."

"Dragonball? What's tha- Ow!"

"YOU SON OF A BITCH! HOW DARE YOU LEAVE ME OUT THERE IN THE SNOW! LEFT ME TO DIE! AFTER ALL I'VE DONE FOR YOU!"

You finally push the skull off as fireballs land at your feet. The skull looks up and pales in fear and confusion.

"Hahahahahahahahaha! Burnnnnnnn! Traitorssssssssss! Your bonessssssss will melt!"

"Woah, woah! Hold on!" Brelyna raises her hands in surrender as the skull cowers behind her. "We need to talk, Ignus! We mean no harm!"

"Liesssssssssssss! Sssssssstupid weak magessssssssssss! Damn Winterhold! Damn you all to Baator! I have ssssssssssssuffered from you long enough!"

Things are getting out of hand with fireballs landing all around with no precise aim. You need to get Ignus under control before you get hit yourself.

"Ignus! Calm down! Let's hear them out!"

"They attacked! They dessssssserve it! They must sssssssssuffer, as I have sssssssuffered!"

"Ignus! Think of the dragon you fought burning! Think of its flesh scarring and peeling apart!"

Ignus seems to get a wonderful day dream from that based on his expression.

"Nordom will assist. Crossbows wish to know what to shoot?"

The skull looks in even greater shock at the cube waddling across the hill.

"You didn't tell me about the modron, chit!"

"He didn't have one with him! And don't call me chit!"

"Ok, everyone, take a breather!" You hold your arms out, as if that would somehow stop anyone.

"Query: How does a skull float and speak without attachment to the body?"

Brelyna shakes her head in disbelief. "The friends you make."

"She's right chief. I leave you alone for a just over a week, and suddenly you're an expert mage, on the hunt for the frigging eye of Vecna? I mean, see where you get without me?"

"Look, I have no idea who-"

"Read this." Brelyna pulls a journal oout from her rucksack and throws it to you. "Read that. It'll explain everything."

"Come on, I just read one journal!"

"Well now you get to read another. Read it now! We'll wait."

"Ok, but I don't think I'm going to get anything from this."

30 minutes later.

"Wow, ok. I did get a lot from that."

"Glad to hear it chief."

"So uh, Morte? Sorry I forgot you. I just, well, forget stuff."

"Yeah, I noticed chief. Sorry I rushed, it's just, well. It's been rough."

"Yeah, I imagine with no arms and all."

To your surprise, he chuckles a bit, until your comrades intervene.

"Permisssssssssssion to burnnnnnnnnnn?"

"Permission to give crossbows exercise?"

"Hold on guys. There's uh….. There's a few things we need to discuss."

"Yeah," Morte murmers. "Like where did you find these freaks?"

"Probably where he found you," Brelyna snarks.

"Oh don't you even."

And so you spend another half an hour explaining to the burning man and polygon about who you really are and how you're supposed to save the world or something.

"Definition: Dragonborn: Body of a decaying organism containing the soul energy and blood plasma of a dragon. Multiple Dragonborns have existed throughout history. First individual sighted in…."

"He knows all about it, polygon," Morte shouts out. "He is one!"

"Query: Skull = Morte. Morte shouts and screeches above the average human volume tolerance. Morte = Dragonborn?"

While Morte and Brelyna stare at each other, Ignus merely nods.

"I knew you had sssssssssssparkssssssssssss within… I will follow you wherever you go….. we will cover all thissssss world in ssssssssssmoke…"

"I'm not surprised, myself," Brelyna steps forward. "We all knew you were different. And not just because of the scars and amnesia. You had this… skill… presence… force surrounding you. It's no wonder Hamrys took a fancy to you."

"Mamma mia, chief. That guy. What a headcase, huh? Wouldn't shut up, once he found out I knew you! Kept talking about coffins! I don't know how you stood it for over a week!"

"Well you might not have to anymore," Brelyna speaks up. "If you are the Dragonborn, that means you've got a job to do. I expect you're overdue for the Greybeards."

Morte shudders at that.

"Well, actually. I still might be able to do both. I know where the eye is, thanks to Nordom here."

"Nordom?" Morte can't believe it. "What the hell kind of name is that?"

"It's west of here, in the old Labyrinthian ruins. Not that far from where the journal says the Greybeards ordered me to go. I can kill two birds with one stone!"

Morte groans.

"One creepy ruin, possibly crawling with dead men is bad enough. But you wanna go through two?"

"You haven't seen the hand's power," Brelyna sides with you. "We need to get it under control."

"With another cursed body part? Who's crazy idea was that?"

"Ignusssssssssssss'"

"I rest my case."

"Well it's the only lead we've got. It's worth just a look."

Morte snorts. "When have we ever just taken a look. Well, if you're going to go cave spelunking again, you'll need me in case you lose your journal again."

"And Ignussssssssssss' flamessssssssss to light the way…."

"And Nordom's crossbows to provide tactical advice."

Morte's grin falters.

"Wait, they're coming with us? Those guys? Chief, you can't mean that."

You lean in close and whisper in his ear.

"I don't know any way to defeat him. He's too powerful. Our only choice is to stay on his good side."

Morte looks at the burning corpse and silently nods.

"Fine, I guess we're stuck with him for now. But what about the dice monster?"

"Nordom will ate director in search. Director ated Nordom with self- indemnification. Nordom + Director + Ignus + Bombastic skull =4 musketeers!"

Morte stares between you and the cube.

"Ok, first thing first, polygon. It's aid and aided, not ate and ated. Second, it's identification, not idenmnification. And third, never give us such a disrespectful name ever again! Do you hear me?"

"Well, looks like you boys should have all the fun in the world." Brelyna gets back on her horse. "I'd best get back to the college, relay the news. Maybe we can get some powerful mage to meet you there to assist."

"Whoa whoa. You can't go now, babe! Not after all we've been through together!"

"You tried to nestle in my cleavage."

"It's just harmless fun, babe! No harm done!"

"Actually, it's against my will and without my permission. So it's more like sexual harassment! And if you weren't a friend of this mage here, I'd burn you alive, is that clear?"

"Yesssssssssssss….. Burnnnnnnnnnnnn…"

"Well, good to see you again. Brelyna. I guess. Thanks for reuniting me with this loser. I know he's a pain in the ass to travel with."

"Hey!"

"Indeed Nameless mage. I'll let the college know where you're headed and tell Hamrys you said hi" She pauses. "Actually, you probably wouldn't want that would you?"

You grin.

She gidyaps her horse and takes off down the road north.

"Good luck friend! I don't envy you traveling with that lot. Stay alert and remember your training!"

"Who does she think she is," Morte murmurs. "Talking about us like some band of numbskulls. And expecting you to remember!"

You smirk at the word numbskulls as you ready your horse and make room for Morte and Nordom on back. Ignus of course can keep up himself.

"Let's go chief! You and me back together again! Just the two of us against the world!"

"And Ignussssssssssss…"

"Huh? Oh right and… Ignus."

"Affirmative: + Nordom."

"Yeah sure. And…. Nordom."

" + Nordom's crossbows."

"….. What?"

"Explanation: Nordom's crossbows wish to partake in this group the 4 musketeers. Permission to travel and convey opinions relating to journey granted?"

Morte stares at you once again. You just laugh from the absurdity of it all.

Fun times.

 


	14. Labyrinthian

You had the most wonderful dream last night.

You dreamed that you stood upon the corpse of the great black dragon, Alduin, or the Transcendent one, or whatever they call him. You had finally done it! You had fulfilled your destiny, and everyone could finally look past your hideous visage!

And your team! Your team was normal! Morte had a body, skin, and control over his sexual urges! Ignus was no longer on flames or dragon shit insane! And Nordom didn't talk to his crossbows.

And there you all stood side by side. Happy with each other's company and beloved by all the planes! They sang of your bravery, your power, and your incredible muscle mass! All was well, all was perfect!

And then you woke up to Morte shouting in your ear, and reality punching you in the gut.

"Chief! Ignus is trying to set the horse on fire!"

…

"Chief, we need to talk."

You continue to piss, pretending you can't hear him.

"Helloooooooo? Chieffffffffff? I know you can hear me. We need to talk."

You sigh. You've recalled the reason you don't like travelling with Morte. He always needs to talk. Whether it's hitting on some random female travelers, complaining about his lack of legs, or just being a dick, the skull cannot stay silent. You figure if you've only got a mouth, you learn to use it nonstop.

"Chief, if you don't say something now, I'm chomping your dick off!"

"What!?" You finally turn around. "What is so damn important?"

"Gah! Chief! Put your pecker away!"

Your face goes red with embarrassment as you pull your…. Actually, what are you wearing? It sure ain't pants.

"Thanks, now in addition to dreams of incineration, I get to dream of your scarred wang."

"I'm starting to miss the time I didn't remember you…"

He looks hurt. "Come on chief, you don't mean that. You really prefer these cockatoos to me?"

You bite your lip. Not sure how to respond.

"That's what I thought. I mean come on chief. How long you think you've got with these loose cannons following?"

"Look, Nordom helped us find the eye, and his former masters kicked the butt. It was this or leave him alone in a squid infested cave."

"But he's so damn annoying! Him and his… crossbows."

"Really? You wanna talk annoying? You?"

"I also provide exposition. I know where my place is, what my purpose is. To chase tail!"

"…Still not convincing me to let go of the cube, Morte."

"Ok, fine. Well how about Ignus? Have you figured out a way to douse him?"

"… Still working on it."

"Well, at least we're on the same page there. Seriously. What were those crazy mages thinking? Having you tag along with this nut? No wonder nobody trusts their college anymore!"

"The journal says he would only travel with me. I don't get it."

"Me neither. It's strange the way he listens to you. And only you."

"And calls me master. I don't understand why. He's a far more skilled mage than me."

"He sure speaks of you like one. Looks at you with awe."

"I am something to be awed I admit. Maybe you should call me master too."

He snorts. "Other way around chief. Without me, you'd wander around lost."

"I think I did just fine without you actually."

He rolls his eyes. "Hello? Look who you've wound up with!"

…

You keep to the north of Whiterun, per Morte's requests. You wanted to stop and replenish on supplies, maybe even get a nap. But Morte refuses to let you.

"I am not letting you near those mercykillers again. Or companions. Or whatever they call themselves. I told you what happened last time. They're dangerous. Especially that half-naked chit. Quite a looker, but damn what a nut!"

"Definition: Mercykillers: Past incarnation of mercenary group known as companions. 1 strike law. Preference exeguttor to jury."

"Yes, yes. Thank you trash compactor. Leave the exposition to me! Also, it's executioner. Not exeguttor!"

"Yeah. Refresh my memory what occurred?"

"Chick feeds you werewolf blood and makes you go insane, killing a rival gang, some thugs in a cave, and a dragon."

You pale.

"Ok, so….. No Whiterun."

"Not you anyway. Just sit tight out here. I'll sneak in and grab some supplies. They'll never notice me."

"A floating skull? Seems like the kind of thing that may attract interest."

"Relax chief. It's dark and I'm a master of disguise. They'll never see me coming."

Of course, they do see him coming and he comes running (floating) out with a bag between his teeth and seemingly every guard in the city giving chase. You and your strange acquaintances ready the horse and gallop over. You scoop the skull up and gallop away, your face hidden in the dark (not easy to do with one of you literally a torch). You ride off until they give up the hunt and go back within the city walls.

"Had fun master of disguise," you snark.

"I woulda gotten it too if I hadn't gotten your stench on me."

"Analysis: Director null stench. 90 % Chance Morte seen due to perverse behavior with opposite sex humanoid."

"Stow it, rubex cube! You wish you could be as popular with the ladies as me!"

"Well, however you did it, you're effectively barred from the city. Way to go skull."

"Let me deal with them massssssssster…. I sssssssssshall make another Winterhold…"

"Yeah….. Let's not do that. Not yet anyway Ignus! Not yet!" You hold up your hands in nervousness as he bristles with frustration.

"Never let me have fun…." He grumbles.

You ride on until you find an abandoned cave. Well not entirely abandoned. But the dwellers take one look at your merry crew and haul ass out.

"Well, time for some good news I guess," you try defusing the tension. "You actually did get quite a bit Morte. This should keep us going for a few more days. Even if you're officially banned from Whiterun."

He gave no indication of having heard you, focused on the man on fire.

"Also, according to the map, we should be less than a day's ride from the labyrinth."

"Hooray!" Morte suddenly responds. "We get to wander through more dark tunnels and fight off. Even more draugr! Never a dull moment!"

"+ Illithids + Dremur mechanics + Dragon priests + Crossbows = Danger! Danger!"

"Oh my god! Shut this thing up!"

Nordom stares at the skull for a bit. You can't tell if he's hurt or not.

"Query: Morte. Why do you respond with aggression to my queries?"

"Because you ask them over and over again! And then your crossbows apparently ask them as well!"

"Answer: Nordom merely requires time to adapt to information overload. Influx of information leads to impairment in motor responses."

"Well in that case, nut brain, why don't you take some time to think over my answers, rather than hurting your little brain further?"

"Query-"

"Didn't you hear me? No more questions!"

"How about you answer a question yourself Nordom?" You hope to shut them up.

Nordom gives another semi smile, and Morte gives a relieved glance.

"Nordom will receive your query with extreme prejudice."

"Uh…. Ok. So Nordom. When.. if, we get the eye of Vecna, what will you do?"

"….Repeat query."

You think of how to word this.

"Stage fifth was to locate the eye of Vecna. Stage sixth is therefore to obtain the eye of Vecna, is it not?"

Nordom bobs for a moment and looks at his crossbows before seemingly nodding.

"Well. After you complete stage sixth (acquiring the eye), what is stage seventh? What is your objective then?"

Nordom pauses for a while then, unsure how to respond.

"Undetermined. Awaiting director's orders."

"Director. You mean me?"

"Affirmative. Awaiting orders."

You pause for a bit, but simply shrug.

"I'll get back to you on that."

Nordom bobs again, which you take as a yes.

You remember at that moment about Ignus, who has remained silent this whole time. You figure you could probably just leave him hanging. On the other hand, you remember the horse's burns.

"So. uh….. Iggy?"

Ignus doesn't respond.

"Iggy? Really chief? You're giving the serial killer a nickname?"

"Er, right. Ignus?"

He turns, seeming bored.

"Yesssssssssss?"

Morte shudders.

"I'll never get used to that hissing."

"Hisssssssssssssssingggggggggg?"

"Uh, anyway, Ignus," you intervene. "According to my journal, we haven't really discussed how you became the way you are."

"Yessssssssssssss we did….. Ignusssssssss hasssssss alwayssssss been thisssssssss way."

"Come now Ignus," you push back. "That can't be true. You look human. Or at least like you were human.

He looks at you. Or appears to stare through you.

"You know….. Do you not?"

"Uh… not really. All I know is you attended the college of Winterhold, got obsessed with flames, and nearly burned the town to the ground. I don't know why though."

He thinks long and hard before responding.

"Once, Ignusssssssss knew nothing of flamesssssssssss. He knew nothing! Nothing! Only that prison hisssss family called home! Sssssssssso he ran to find another prissssssssson they called a college!" His flames rise in anger.

"But Ignusssssssss learned. He learned of flamesssssssssss. Of burninggggg. He learned purpose! He desired to share this knowledge. To help othersssssss follow the path of flamessssssssss." He pauses.

"But they refused, the insectsssssssssss! They rejected Ignussssssssss' gift! They "punished" him." He makes a strange sound at this, which you think is a chuckle.

"By lighting you on fire?"

"The fliessssssssss, the small flies wished to ssssseeeeeeeeee Ignusssssss burnnnnnn after Ignusssssssssss ssssset fire to their sssssstreets… tiny magelingsss, hedge wizzardsss, runecasterssss... tiny ssss'parks of magic came to punissssssh Ignusss for hurting their loved onessss... they sssentenced Ignusssss to BURNNNN, made Ignussss a TORCH, a sssspitting FLAME, burning, burning... It wassss JUSSSTICE, they sssaid..."

You look around the room. Nordom is listening attentively, while Morte looks like he's hearing a lunatic. Which he kind of is.

"Jusss'tice...but it was not a sssentence... there is ssoooo much flamessss and painnn that there issss NO pain... there issss LIGHT, and HEAT, and the flesssh runsss as TALLOW acrossss my bonessss... and for the firssst time... Ignussss issss PLEASSSSED..."

Ignus is rotating around the center of the room as he speaks, watching all of you, grinning a malicious grin.

"When the planessssssssssssss burn and all life is torchessssss, then Ignusssssss sssssssshall at lasssst…. Be at peace…."

The room goes deathly quiet. Nordom still doesn't know how to respond. Morte however stares at you with serious worry.

"Ignus…. How did you learn. Who taught you these things… who?"

Ignus stares at you with a look of what appears to be disbelief. Then he laughs. Gouts of flames erupting from his mouth in a horrible sound.

"Ignorant….. Sssssssso ignorant…"

He continues to laugh. A laugh you hear in your sleep, long after he has stopped.

…

Labyrinthian didn't sound like a good place when you first heard the name. It doesn't look any more inviting seeing the entrance in person. It looms before you, clearly showing signs of decay.

"I'm in love already," Morte grumbles.

"Ssssssstone…. Will burnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn anyway…"

"Yeah, you do that burny. Do us a favor and burn yourself along with it, wontcha?"

"Sssssssssssssilence ssssssssssskull….. Only the masssssssssster ssssssssseperatesssssssssssss you from asssssssssh….."

"Nordom observes dysfunction present in Sacramento Kings. Recommend immediate separation of church and state."

"How… does that make any sense? Chief, help me out here!"

"Talk amongst yourselves." You have no interest in resolving infighting. You just want to get in, get out, and get drunk. Of course, being you. You aren't so lucky. Right at the entrance doors, someone is waiting for you. A man with grey skin and red eyes bores into you.

"Oh, you finally made it. Good to see you again."

"Nice to see you to. Whoever you are."

"That's the headmaster of Winterhold college, you dolt! Don't you remember?"

"No, Morte I did not. But thanks for the reminder."

"Good to see you again Nameless one. And….. Ignus."

"Ssssssssssavosssssssssss. Missssssssssss me?"

"Not entirely, I'll admit. Releasing you from your sleep was not our first choice. But still. It seems to have worked out thus far."

"Indeed…" Ignus eyes you grinning.

"I see you've made a new acquaintance as well. I believe this would be a modron, correct?"

"Correction: Nordom = Backwards modron. Backwards modron = Nordom. Nordom = Null Assassin. Null Assassin = Nordom. Nordom = Sacramento King. Sacramento King ="

"Aghhhhhhh! Make him stop! Pull the plug, please!"

"Oh, hello. Morte, was it? Glad you found your friend after all. Wouldn't want the Dragonborn to run into trouble would we?"

You look away flushing.

"What brings you here anyway? I assume you got our message?"

"Yes. Brelyna relayed the message. However, as soon as I learned where the eye was stored, I realized it was too dangerous to let you go alone."

"Thissssssssss isssssss nothing….. I sssshall blessssssssss thessssssssse ruinsssssssss with my touch…."

"You shouldn't rush into things like that Ignus. You should know that from experience, should you not?"

The flaming man bristles with subtle anger.

"Believe it or not, I know a thing or two about these ruins. And besides, you can't get in without this." He holds up a strange item and places it on the doors. A click is then heard.

"We sealed this place a long time ago. For safety purposes. No one has been in since, but I have little reason to think it's changed much." He looks back as he approaches the door.

"A word of caution. This place is called Labyrinthian for a reason. It is an entrance to another plane. A maze. Located on another plane. A plane of darkness, where shadows haunt you wherever you go. The last time we stepped through, we were separated. We must be prepared for something similar to occur."

"We?" That word stood out.

He stares at you long and hard, then simply nods.

"Yes. Me and my… friends. We came here once long ago. Young. Foolish. Seeking power. Thought we would change the planes." He shakes his head in dismay. "But much has changed since then. I have changed, as have you. We will not fail this time."

As have you? You raise your eyebrows at that strange statement but write it off as a mistake. How wrong you would find yourself to be…

"Are you all ready? It has been a long journey for us all. If you need some time to rest, we may do so to let you regain your strength."

"No ressssssst…. Let usssssssss finissssssssssh thisssssssssss. Let flames light the darknesssssss….."

"Uh… Yeah what he said. I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

"Affirmation: Nordom is ready for combat."

"Well I'm not! Hold on! I don't even have a weapon beyond my teeth. And I've been riding in that sack all day!"

"Well, at least you got to sleep Morte. I'm the one who steered the horse, and I'm all for it. Besides, if we wait out here too long, we might get cold feet."

"Oh gimme a… Ah, forget it! You wanna get torn apart by ravenous shades? Might as well get it over with."

"That's the spirit! Now prepare yourselves, and let's go. This time I promise, we will succeed!"

"This time?"

He looks back and gives a sad smile.

"You'll see."

Then he opens the door to reveal a portal. You get a feeling of immense dread, but move through it regardless.

You immediately wish you hadn't

…

"Chief? Chief? Where are you? Come on chief! Answer me!"

"Analysis: Director null present in immediate surroundings. Recommend Expansion of sensory input."

"Thank you for stating.. whatever you said moron! Just shut it and let me think!"

"Danger. Multiple translucent entities approaching from multiple directions."

"I said…. Wait. What kind of entities?"

…

"Darknessssssssssss sssssssssmotherssssssss the flamessssssssss… Nothing to burnnnnnnnnn….. Masssssssssster where are youuuuuuuuuu? What isssssss thisssssssssssss… Sssssssshadowsssssssssss….. Coming for my flamesssssssssss…. Nnnnnnnnnoooooooo….. Ssssssssshall not be… The masssssssster gave me thessssssssse flamesssssssssssss….. I will see thissssssssssss plane burnnnnnnnnnnn before you take them from me!"

…

For once, you're having the best time out of anyone in your group. Of course, you don't know that at the time. You haven't encountered any of the creatures harassing the rest of your companions, who were unfortunately (or fortunately for your sanity) separated the instant you entered the portal. And you also got the one teammate you feel you can rely on. Ironically, the one you know least.

That's not to say you were having a swell day thus far. The place you've entered is cold, dark, and apparently has ghosts. You squint hard. You can't be certain but you think one of them is… Savos!?

"We're here. According to the map. I must say, you know how to pick vacations."

"We're not here for vacations, elf." A grim-faced hardened man says angrily. "We're here to change our fortunes."

"I am aware of that, my friend. But I do not see how we can take the time to not learn something from this visit."

"Look around! We might as well be in hell! For all we know, a herd of Baatezu are waiting to ambush us!"

"Calm yourself Mr. Frey. Nerves will do you no good here. Isn't that what a good thief does?"

You pale. That voice. That deep voice It can't be. You can't see the man's face. But looking from behind, you can see the same kind of build. The same kind of hair. It can't be? Can it?

"I am the greatest of thieves. Not just a good thief. I don't care how important you think you are. I demand respect."

"Respect is earned dear Mercer." A woman with dark hair and dark skin and an arm over the shoulder of the man with the deep voice. She looks so familiar.

"Let's just make this quick." A Redguard woman answers. "Before the headmaster realizes I'm gone."

"I thought you were his favorite Atmah." The Redguard man with the deep voice says. "Have you been slacking in your mission?"

It's hard to tell with a ghost. But you think her eyes widen.

"No. No. My lord. I have done as you asked. All for you. All for you."

The other woman with her arms around the "lord's" shoulders gives a hiss at this other woman. The man however doesn't appear to notice her displeasure.

"Enough of this!" The man named either Mercer or Frey growls. "Lead the way Aren! We have a job to do!"

"Yes. Yes. Patience Mr. Frey. A cool head will serve you well here."

"Then let us proceed." The Redguard man leads the way. With all the ghosts who've spoken and a few others who haven't.

You stare as the ghosts walk on and seem to disappear into the surrounding darkness. You stare where they disappeared for a while before turning to stare at Savos Aren.

"That.. that's you…. Was you.."

"Was. Yes. Ghosts of the past. Of those who came here with me. Old wounds."

"You knew the eye was here? The whole time? And you sent me off on a goose chase?"

"I did not know. I only knew we came seeking something of great power. I did not know what exactly. Now we have returned. And this time, we will succeed. I swear it."

You sweat as you now believe "we" is not an accidental word.

…

"Move it cube! They're right behind us!"

"Affirmative. Detecting multiple shadows approaching in a circular position. Recommend back-to-back formation to maximize effectiveness."

"Effectiveness!? You're a clockwork toy, and I haven't got arms! How can we possibly be effective?"

"Analysis: New information = null back-to-back formation. Re-analyzing available options. Crossbows recommending new strategem. Stand by while I communicate with them."

"What? No! Run you idiot!"

…

"Ssssssssssso many ssssssssshadowsssssssssssss…. Burnnnnnnnnn all of you! Yessssssssss! Runnnnnnn! This plane will burnnnnnnnnnn… asssssssss will he…. That ssssssscarred basssssssstard!"

…

You and Savos stumble through the darkness. You can't make out anything in the darkness, relying solely on the elf to lead the way. Not that you're paying much attention. You're still trying to make sense of those ghosts. All you know is that apparently Savos, the frigging headmaster of the Winterhold college, came here at some point in the past and declined to tell anyone. He just kept it to himself for all these years

Damn. Morte could learn from this guy.

"We.. we have to go back!"

You jump into the air, ready to fight. Oh look. The ghosts are back.

"Go back?" One of the men says. Frey you recall. "Sure, you got a death wish? Go ahead."

"Come now Atmah." Ghost Savos holds her close. "There's no point. He's already dead."

"Bu- but. I promised he would….. I promised…."

"I say let her go." The other Redguard woman smirks. "She hasn't proven useful thus far."

"Now now Deionorra, we're all in this together. And Atmah here has fulfilled her duties very well thus far." The Redguard man with the deep voice walks over to the sobbing woman and raises her face up to meet his.

"Atmah, Atmah. You're a strong woman. You knew the risks when you came with us. Are you really going to put the fate of Hammerfell our people, and… me at risk with cowardice?"

The woman looks up at him with adorable puppy eyes.

"No! No! Of course not. I'm… I'm sorry, my lord. I just…. Yes of course. For you… I mean for our people. Anything…."

Deionorra looks on angrily as the man twists the other woman around his finger. Willingly submitting to his wish. It sickens you.

"Let us honor the dead and continue for the living. Make no mistake. The sacrifices made here today will never be forgotten!"

The ghosts vanish again, but the feeling of what that man did.. manipulating that woman. It's repulsive.

"Savos… who was he. That Redguard man?"

He doesn't answer, merely looks at you with what appears to be pity.

…

"Ok. Looks like we're fine as long as we hide here. As long as you shut your trap!"

"Analysis: Plane: Negative Material. Location: Unknown."

"Negative Material? This? Well, that's the first useful thing you've said all day cube. Keep that up and I might tolerate."

"Analyzing: Morte responds positively to phrase Negative Material. Repetitive use of phrase Negative Material = friendship. Negative Material. Negative Material. Negative Material."

"Shut up!"

…

"What issssssssss thisssssssssssssss….. a dead dragon…. Here? Even without flesssssssssssh to burnnnnnnnnnnnnn, you all will be assssssssssssshesssssssssssssssss!"

…

While your teammates are having fun, you're walking along with Savos Aren, who still refuses to explain who he came here with or why. Or even how long ago. You figure you're about to learn more however. Because, with a sigh, you encounter the specters yet again.

"Damn! Two more down!" Frey growls. "What gives Aren? You said these were top notch mages!"

"Don't blame them! No one could be prepared for this! How could they?"

"The cowards show their true selves my love," Deionorra whispers to the Redguard man. He merely nods silently.

"Some help you've been Ice-Fist," Frey shouts at a nord mage. "Crying like a little bitch at the sight of those shadows!"

"Don't question my bravery, thief! Or I'll show you why they call me Ice-Fist!"

"Enough! Save it for the shadows!" Atmah stands between the two of them. "They were weak! We are strong! And our lord has chosen us to liberate an entire plane! We cannot fight amongst ourselves now. We must continue on for our lov- lord! And no shadows or anything else are going to stand in our way! So rise."

The Redguard man smirks while Deionorra does the opposite.

"Well said Atmah. I knew I could count on you. You are a true Redguard woman. I daresay you would indeed make a fine queen."

If Deionorra was annoyed before, she is now livid. The rest of the poor group seems to shudder from the repulsive display, except for Atmah who is overtaken with herself, and Savos who looks saddened.

"Now that our morals are restored, shall we press on? You few who have lasted this long, rejoice! For you are stronger ilk than those who have fallen here today."

They follow him, walking like zombies. Seemingly against their will. You don't think they're under control, but it's not natural. Except the two women. Deionorra confronts Atmah, anger on her face.

"HE. IS. MINE. You are nothing. A joke of a mage. Better suited for the brothels, than our cause. Never forget that. Or this tomb shall be yours too."

And with that, she proceeds on, leaving her compatriot stunned, before she recollects herself and too vanishes.

You're stunned as well, left speechless at what just transpired. Eventually you turn to Savos who looks on with remorse.

"I had forgotten how damaged she was poor Deionorra. Don't think too badly of her. She was blinded by devotion. We all were."

"Who… were those people? That man… who was he?"

He stares at you hard again.

"I think you know the answer, deep down. You merely fear to hear it."

…

"Analysis: Word on wall translates to ICE."

"How would you know that, nutbolt?"

"Affirmation: Nordom's vocabulary structure includes knowledge of draconic language. Word on wall is IIZ = Ice."

"Then that means another shout for the chief. At least it's not another fire blast. The last thing we need is more flames in this team."

"Affirmative: Ignus puts out over 3,000 joules/ minute."

"Right… Now quit your yapping and write this down, before those things come back! Move It! I mean it, put down those crossbows!"

…

"Light….. why light….. what isssssssss thissssssss? Magic… Who are you…. What power is thisssssssss? You… you crave dessssssstruction….. But not the purity of flamesssssssss…. Not the passssssssion of burninnnnnnngggggggg… I will sssssssssshow you….. you and the inssssssssssectssssssssssss who imprissssssssssoned me…. And him!"

…

After several hours of stumbling through the dark, you come to a door. You feel a great power emanating from behind the door, which is not helped by the sense of Déjà vu.

"This is it."

You turn to see the ghosts once again.

"You sure?" Frey sounds impatient. "I didn't slash all those shadows for nothing. I want results."

"You doubt his magnificence? Down on your knees and pray for forgiveness thief!"

"Now, now Deionorra. I would be worried if he weren't eager as are we all. After what we've just gone through."

"I should hope so my…. Lord." Savos says somewhat bitterly. "We lost three fine mages here tonight."

"Their sacrifice will be remembered," the Redguard man says somewhat dismissively. "And it has not been in vain. Behind this door… can you feel it? The salvation of our people."

"And my pay?"

"Yes yes, Mr. Frey. Your pay. If that is all that drives you."

"I am driven by a desire to take my place at Nocturnal's side. Something far greater than mere conquest."

As the rest step forward, you see the Winterhold trio Savos, Amath, and Ice-something hanging back and talking amongst themselves.

"This was a mistake. We should never have come here. We're surrounded by monsters. And I don't mean the shadows."

"Calm now Hafnar. We've come this far. Just a little more, and we'll be done."

"And what then? Do you expect to share in the glory. The power? I've little reason left to trust these people. What do you think Savos?"

"….. We have no choice but to proceed. We cannot go back. We finish here, and from there…. Well, one thing at a time."

"Well, that's reassuring." Hafnar snorts.

"Then let this reassure you. Whatever happens, we will stay together. No matter what. Agreed?"

Hafnar looks on for a bit then nods. "Aye together. Atmah?"

"Yes. Together."

And then the ghosts fade again. You stare for a long time then look at Savos. He is crying.

"What happened to them?"

He looks at you.

"You're about to find out."

…

The room on the other side of the door is large but is illuminated by flashing lights bouncing all around. You quickly realize (not to your surprise), that the source of the lights is your "buddy" Ignus engaging in a firefight with a scary skeletal man.

"You dare to ssssssssilence the flamessssssssss… you sssssshall burnnnnnnnnnnn in hell for thisssssssssss!"

You figure you ought to help, but you don't want to get anywhere near those two wackos lest you get burned again. Besides, you find your attention on Savos as he walks almost dreamlike towards two other mages in the room, you had not previously noticed.

"Hafnar? Atmah? Is that you?"

Your eyes widen in shock. You take a closer look and recognize the faces of the two mages who you saw moments ago express doubt at your crusade. That was clearly years ago. But they don't look like they've aged a day. Except, they have a tired haunted look on their expressions that speaks of untold trauma.

"Savos?" Atmah looks at him clearly shaken. "What are you… how long…."

"Too long my friend. Too long. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."

"Wait." Hafnar looks at you with confusion then anger. "Who the hell is that!?"

You realize they don't recognize you with the scars that have now lined your body. However a closer look quickly confirms his suspicions.

"You… what the hell are you doing here!?"

"He's…. come to make amends." Savos quickly intervenes

Amends? What the hell is he talking about?

Hafnar looks at you with rage. But manages not to lash out.

"Well I hope you're better prepared than last time, cause this guy's temper has not improved."

"Uh… right. Well as you can see, I brought someone else with a temper."

"The guy on fire? ….. I suppose it's better than goddamn Mercer Frey and your psycho girlfriend."

"My lord."

You turn to see Atmah, staring at you with almost puppy dog-like eyes.

"My lord it is good to see you again. But I am curious. Where is Lady Deionorra? Where did you obtain these scars? How goes the cause? And how have you not aged all these years?"

"Uh…. Maybe later hon. We came to retrieve the eye."

"Yes. Yes of course. That takes priority. We have maintained the priest of Vecna as long as possible, my lord. But your fiery friend accidentally separated our connection to him and woke him up."

"I'll give you credit for bringing an actual fighter," Hafnar muses. "But it won't be enough. The eye of Vecna remains in his socket."

You turn to Ignus' opponent and indeed see that one of his eyes looks… well off.

"I fear they're right," Savos muses. "Even mighty Ignus' flames are not hot enough. But I have conceived a means."

"What do you mean by means?"

"I have received a spell that I believe may contain the priest. It will however require time to prepare. I need a distraction. Can you do this last favor for me my friends?"

The two mages simply nod and rush towards the fighting whack Adoos. Savos meanwhile sits down on his knees.

"Sooooo, should I be doing something?" He looks at you with a smirk.

"When last we came, you told me what to do. How ironic that our positions have changed. I suggest you assist them. After all, they are here because of you."

That stings, but you don't have time to argue. As strong as the mages and Ignus are, it doesn't appear they can scratch the shield the bone head has formed around himself.

"Gaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh! Burnnnnnnnnnnnn! Why won't you burnnnnnnnnnnnnnn? Flamessssssssssss consssssssssssssume alllllllllll!"

"Not this guy pal!" Hafnar grunts. "Not with the eye of Vecna under his control! Speaking of which…. Savos! How's your ace in the hole?"

"Need…. More… time… Keep… attention.."

"We're doing our best Savos." Atmah pants from the exertion. "But we don't have the stamina after all these years."

Indeed, the priest seems to be losing interest in the four of you who have no chance and turning towards Savos himself. It appears you fail as distractions.

"Damn. I can't believe I'm saying this but I wish Morte were here."

"Speak of the hero of Helgen, and he shall appear!"

Everyone in the room turns towards the noise. The two mages with shock at the sight of the skull and the cube. The rest with different emotions.

"Hey, bony! Where's your mommy? Mistook you for a Glabrezu and left you here to rot, I bet!"

The priest turns on the smaller skeleton with surprising rage, giving you all a breather.

"Analysis: Dead entity surrounded by residual mass emanating from ocular region."

"My lord," Atmah looks with raised eyebrows. "You find the strangest friends. Although," she smiles. "I suppose they're preferable to that harpy Deionorra."

That name again.

"What's the plan chief? Tell me you've got one!"

"Distract. Do not engage."

"Now there's a plan I can go along with!"

"Nordom concurs. Crossbows yearn for violence!"

And so, you go along with it. As long as you can. Which is unfortunately, not too long. Even with your team and the two awoken mages, you can't hurt this bastard as long as he's got that eye.

"The flamesssssssssssss will leave you a roassssssssssted corpssssssssse! And Ignussssssss shall sssssing! Sssssssssing his bolero of fire!"

"Uh, not likely nitwit. In case you ain't noticed, we're losing."

"Nitwit? Do not addressss me ssssssssso, sssssskull…. Lesssssssst the flamesssss conssssssume you too….."

"Hey, hey, hey! Fight him, you flaming idiot!"

"That's a good one skull," Savos on the other side of the room bursts out laughing. "If nothing else you've proven yourself an effective distraction. I think I'm prepared. Everyone get clear! You too Ignus!"

"Nnnnnnnnoooooooo….. Mussssssst feed the flamessssssssssss…."

"I say leave him. One less nut to worry about."

"Now Morte. We do not abandon students. Even if they are unstable and predisposed towards incineration."

You sigh.

"Ignus! Savos is about to burn him! Get some distance and watch their beautiful glow!"

Of course, that gets him to move giddily. Savos then says some enchanting words that you don't hear. You however do see the results.

A gap of light appears in the floor of the room, from which flames and demon hands arise and grip the heels of the skeleton priest. He shrieks in rage as the hands grab him and pull him down.

Savos then unleashes a beam of light which grabs the eye of Vecna from the priest's socket and rips it out. The skeleton screams as the eye is ripped from him and he is dragged into the pit.

Savos places the eye in a strange device and hands it to you.

"This will… should keep the eye stable. But you must return it to Winterhold as soon as possible."

"Why us? Why can't you-"

As if to answer your question, the demon hands began slithering around Savos' feet and working their way up to his knees. He gives a sad smile to your shocked expression.

"It was the price the baatezu offered in return for the spell."

"What!? Savos, you fool!" Hafnar shouts in despair. I told you to never trust a fiend!"

"There was no time to find an alternative I fear. At least they won't get the eye. Besides, I put you here. This is my punishment I've earned!"

"No! It's not!" You grab at him, trying to keep him from being dragged in. "I saw those images. I brought them here! If anyone deserves this, it's me!"

"You ssssssssspeak the truth….."

Atmah and Hafnar run to assist and grab onto his hands. The rest of your team seems unsure what to do, except for Ignus who watches with some glee.

"Not entirely. That was a different man. I see that now. That is not who you are now." Savos looks at you sadly.

"I only wish we had managed to turn your talents to a more noble goal than conquest. But the burden is mine to my friend. You will have to find another way to atone."

"Shut up, you old coot!" Hafnar yells. "You've never given up as long as I've known you! You can't give up now!"

"He's right!" Atmah sobs. "You promised we'd stay together no matter what, didn't you? Don't back down now! Please Savos! Please!"

"Let go you fools!" Savos takes on a harsher tone. "I did this for you, don't you see? Don't waste this chance!"

"Too late….. The flamesssssss below hunger for flesssssssssssh…. The flesssssssh of worthlessssssss magessssssssssss."

The hands begin to creep around the knees of the other mages and you as well. You all scream and fight to pull free from the demon's grip, but to little avail.

"Chief!" Morte rushes over and tries to bite off the hands dragging you down. Unfortunately, more rise up in their place.

"No! Let them go!" Savos looks around in anger. "This was not part of the deal!"

Laughter rises up from the pit as the hands pull him down into the abyss him still screaming.

"Savos!" Both remaining mages scream.

"Hey, Ignus! Do something useful, who don't you!?"

"I do not obey ssssssssssskullsssssssssssss…"

"Ignus!" You try. "Burn these hands!"

Of course, he responds to you and complies, singing the hands off your legs and allowing you to wriggle loose.

"Attention: Director. I detect a portal in this immediate vicinity. Null to key."

"Blood, my lord!" Atmah shouts out. "That was how you left last time! A drip of blood should do it!"

"Damn it, no!" Hafnar shouts out as the hands pull him further in.

"Chief! It's time to go! We've got more problems!" And to your dismay you see living shadows manifesting from the darkness, their claws reaching for you.

"Not without them! Come on you two! Let's vamoose!" But no matter how hard you pull, you can't release them from the demon's grip. And with the shadows now on the scene, your friends can't aid you.

"You crave the flamessssssssssssss do you…. Then have more… morrrrrrreeeeeeeeeee!"

"Hafnar!" Atmah shrieks as her friend inevitably gets dragged down to his fate. She then turns up to you, tears in her eyes. "My lord…."

"Don't speak, just hold on!"

"My lord, I want you to know, that I don't blame you for any of this. I still believe in the cause. But clearly my time has passed. You must carry on the fight."

"What-"

"Leave. Leave now. Save Tamriel." She begins to let go.

"Don't-"

"But if you see Deionorra…"

"Stop-"

"I know she's important to you.

"Wait-"

"But tell her I said…"

"Please-"

"Go fuck yourself." And with that she lets go, dragged into the flames by the hands.

Morte bites your shoulder and pulls you back from the edge as the hands reach for you again. The room has been overtaken by chaos with the hands grasping for you in the center and the shadows moving in from every direction.

"Chief, I know you're sad but we need to go now!"

You slowly pull yourself up from the ground, trembling all over and slowly moving over to the portal.

"Morte, bite me."

He complies and blood drips onto the outline of the portal, springing it to life.

"It's….. time to go." You stammer out. "Everyone… let's go."

You all jump through the portal. Part of you hopes that Ignus gets left behind. But no. He makes it through to as the portal closes. A shadow that is halfway through as it does and is torn in half by the collapse. Its shriek a fitting closing to this whole dismal day.

You all lie there for a time, outside the entrance to Labyrinth where you first got separated from each other.

"Let's… let's go everyone."

"Chief…. Do you want to…"

"Not now Morte….. Not now…. We got the eye. Let's just…. Go get that other thing and head back to Winterhold."

He simply nods and floats on. Nordom is about to say something but Morte shakes his head.

"Director…"

"Nordom, what did I say about questions?"

"But what is stage seventh?"

"The horn of windfarter or whatever. We'll pass through Morthal then onto the tomb."

Nordom still seems confused but follows after. Ignus looks at you for a while, seemingly trying to gauge your emotional state. But then he to moves on.

You sit there for what seems forever even though it's only a few minutes. Your thoughts are then interrupted by the return of the ghosts.

"We shouldn't have done it…." Savos' voice trails off.

"I'll say. What a waste!" Frey sounds annoyed. "All that effort for what? I thought you were a miracle worker!"

"I admit I underestimated the power of the eye," the Redguard man responds.

"Did you ever! How do you intend to liberate Hammerfell if you can't even take on one little eyeball!?"

"Watch your tongue, scum!" Deionorra holds her knife at Frey's throat.

"Now, now Deionorra. Mr. Frey proved himself useful. We do not kill useful people. Let him go."

"I expect my pay still, my lord!"

"And you shall have it. When have I ever gone back on my word, Mercer?"

"You haven't. But when you do…." With that he wanders off.

"My lord. Atmah, and Hafnar. Was that the right thing what I did?"

"It was the smart thing," the Redguard dismisses without any emotion. "They will keep the eye contained until we find a way to control it."

"But the morality… they were friends…"

"And as a good friend, I'm sure you'll do all you can to research this problem and get them out., After all, you don't want them to pay for your mistake… do you?"

That was a manipulative statement if you've ever seen one. Pinning the blame on him for his (your) errors. You might be impressed if you hadn't gained a moral compass. Savos walks ahead with a newfound determination, though you can still see him struggle in his walk.

"A disappointment, my love. But one we can recover from. You can do anything. I truly believe that."

The Redguard (you, for there is no question that is you before all the scars) turns around, offering his cold smirk. His (your) eyes at Deionorra not with love, but as an object, a tool.

"You really are the best, you know that?"

"I know my love. I'm here for you always. Just…. Promise me you won't leave me."

"Never. I only leave useless people, like those mages. Never you. I love you Deionorra."

"And I you, my love."

You gag.

 


	15. Morthal

"He must have done it I'm telling you. He must have."

"We don't know that for certain now do we?"

"What? You believe in coincidences? His wife's house burns down, and he ends up with another woman the day after? Give me a break!"

"But Hroggar loved his wife. Never a sign of tension between them! Not one! And they had a child for all those years! What could he gain from this?"

"Have you seen his new hustler? She's a smoking hot babe, I tell ya. Plenty of berks would want a one-night stand with that seductress."

"Oh, come on! Enough to kill his wife and daughter? Hroggar' s not like that!"

"Stranger things have happened. Especially in this town."

"Query: Elaborate on definition of stranger por favor."

"Who- Aaahhh! The dead have risen! Run for your lives!"

The gossiping townspeople scatter with the wind in every direction, screaming about the "dead" rising.

"Attention Morte. I have a question. Why do humanoids run at 3 km/ hour faster than average when we approach within 3 meters?"

"Probably because 3 of us should be dead and the fourth has his crossbows pointed at everyone!"

"Explanatory: Crossbows = gear spirits = Curiosity must be settled for maximum information intake."

"I… How does that make any sense? Chief, seriously! What are we doing with this cube? Let's just ditch him!"

"Morte..." You rub your forehead.

"Plenty to burnnnnnnnnnnnnnn here…."

"Oh right! Thanks for reminding me about you hothead! Let's ditch him to!"

"Feel free to try sssssssssskul. Your form isssssssssss ripe for my flamessssssssssss…."

Morte blanches before turning to you, waiting for you to step in.

You look from him to Ignus to Nordom who himself looks from you to Morte to a crab in the water to his crossbows then back to you.

"There they are! The monsters! And the… automaton."

"Confirmation: Nordom = Backwards Modron."

"One of them' s on fire! Careful! I bet he's the one who set Hroggar' s house on fire!"

"Fire? Flamessssssssss? Who daressssssssssss sssssssssssset firesssssssssssss for Ignussssssssssssss?"

"Easy Ignus, easy." You step in front of him trying to keep him from going on a rampage.

"What's all this ruckus then?" An elderly woman pushes her way through the gawking crowd to the front. She is indeed surprised at the bizarre group before her, but she maintains a cool presence despite the bizarre group before her.

"Well well. I've seen some sights in my time. But this well… This is something else."

"Greetings! Greetings!" Before you can do anything, Nordom walks forward waving his crossbows in excitement. The guards step in front of the woman causing Nordom to pause, no less eager to talk.

"This unit indemnifies as Nordom. Unit indemnified self-awareness in Dwemer ruins with aid from nameless director. Nordom journeyed with director, Morte, and Ignus to Labyrinthian where Nordom encountered the eye- "

"Nordom! Enough!" You must step forward before he gives too much away.

"Look, we mean no harm to anyone. We haven't hurt anyone, and we don't plan to."

"Don't we…." Ignus hisses.

"No, we don't. Look, we just showed up here less than a minute ago. We just want to pass through."

"Not before seeing this hot babe we've heard about! This Hroggar guy's smoking hot new girlfriend!"

"Morte! Stow it!"

"Ignussssss wisssssssssshessssssssss to sssssssssee thisssssssssss fire! Thisssssssssssss man who sssssssssssetssssssssssssssssssss flamesssssssssssssssssss! Ignusssssssssssssssssss can teach him much!"

"Uh, he doesn't mean anything by that. He's just, angry. You know. Because he's on fire."

The woman stares at each of you deep in thought. If she's perplexed by this ragtag bunch of misfits, she doesn't show it. If anything, she seems amused.

"Well, it appears you haven't caused any issues… yet. However, you are clearly very odd individuals with some major baggage on you. I would suggest keeping your time in this town to a minimum. Our guards will want to keep an eye on you always. You understand, don't you?"

"Oh, watch me all you want my lady! Don't worry about keeping your hands to yourself! I may not have hands myself! But these teeth have touched many mouths, believe me!"

You place your face in your hands. Nordom looks back and forth, unsure how to respond, while Ignus merely bristles impatiently.

"Ignussssssssss wissssssssshesssssssssss to sssssssssssee the asssssshesssssss of thisssssss home… He wisssssssssssssshesssssssssssssss to bassssssssssssssk in the beauty of death…."

"Jarl Idgrod! Can we trust these…. people to have free roam of our wonderful town? Perhaps we should keep them under arrest until we can confirm they are safe?"

"Arresssssssssst? Ignussssssssssssss wasssssssssssss imprissssssssssssoned once….. he will not do sssssssssssssso again….."

"Query: Nordom is confused. Why would Morthal authorities use cardiac arrest on unknown entities?"

You and a good deal of the crowd laugh out loud, until you look to your right and remember the ticking time bomb traveling with you.

"Jarl? May I have a word with you?" The two of you walk off to talk silently, not noticing Morte hustle up to some of the people in the crowd.

"So, this woman you were talking about…. She got a name?"

"What woman? What are you talking about? The Jarl? She's already married?"

"No, no. Not her. The chick with this Hroggar guy!"

"Why would you want to associate yourself with someone who loves a murderer?"

"Why to give her something he can't obviously. Wink Wink." The people look at each other oddly.

"Hey Morte. What are you yammering about over there?"

"Affirmative director. Morte wishes to engage in procreation with female companion of former owner of residence incinerated."

"Will you shut it, you stupid toy?"

"Such friends you have nameless one." The jarl looks about amused.

"Well it appears we are in a rather unusual situation, gentlemen. Given that, I suppose I have no choice but to trust in your hands scarred stranger. But you do realize this puts us in danger?"

"Not to worry, madam! The bony warrior is ready for whatever you've got to throw his way!"

"Right, what he said. Look, I'm sorry. I'm kind of stuck with them."

"Understood. You have my sympathies. That said. Perhaps you can do us a favor while you're here hmm?"

"No," you whisper.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Right well, as I'm sure you've heard, we had a little accident recently in this town. As of now, we have no evidence as to the perpetrator."

"Yes, we do! It was Hroggar!"

"It was that burning man right there! Duh!"

"No! It was Ravel, come to solve the ultimate puzzle! What can change the nature of a man? Love! Love changed it!"

"No, it was Asmodeus! Manifested on this realm!"

"Fools! Fools! All of you! The dragons! What else?"

"Shut it! All of you1" The Jarl belts out with all her authority.

"Yessssssssssssss… burnnnnnnnnnnnnnn them all….."

"No Ignus! Bad! Bad Ignus!"

"Now then, if we're all calm?" The Jarl looks around.

"Good. Now. These kind….. "gentlemen" have promised to seek out the source of this tragedy. A woman and her child were both murdered and so we all want justice brought as soon as possible. This fine man has agreed to investigate. So please, prevent from acting out on your assumptions until we find provable evidence."

She looks about firmly. She is not totally convincing of this as you hear people muttering amongst themselves.

"Gentlemen? These guys are the opposite of gentle. Look at those scars! They should be dead!"

"And this berk is fine? I shudder to think what she considers bad?"

"I don't know. Look at those shoulders! So broad! And to walk on with those scars, well….. Certainly, a man of character."

"I'll say. Not one in the looks department. But I'll bet he's a dragon under the sheets!"

"Uh… ladies? Hello? Screw that loser! How could you want him when you know you could have me?"

"Attention Morte. I have run an analysis. I estimate a 95% probability your final sentence comes from a famous song."

"Stow it cube! I'm working my mojo here!"

"All right! All right! I'll look!"

"And you'll keep an eye on that?" She motions to Ignus.

"That's all I've been doing for weeks."

She nods and begins to walk away. "Guards will continue to keep their eyes on you for safety. Surely you understand."

You sigh and nod, accepting you weren't going to get the calm peaceful visit you'd hoped for.

The crowd begins to part, keeping their eyes on you warily. And some of them with lust.

"Attention! Morte! Looking for a Morte!"

"I said stow it Polygon!"

"Err- I'm a messenger with a letter from Gerdur of Riverwood."

Morte turns around stunned.

"Gerdur? Riverwood? Quick, hand it over here now!"

The messenger looks confused as Morte takes it in his mouth.

"She wasn't kidding about a skull. Oh well. I've seen weirder. Good day gentlemen... and burning man and…. Whatever you are."

"Gremlings! This unit indemnifies as Nordom. Unit indemnified self-awareness in Dwemer ruins with aid from nameless director. Nordom journeyed with director, Morte, and Ignus to Labyrinthian where Nordom encountered the eye- "

As Nordom talks the poor man's ear off, you must open Morte's letter for him. Because you know. No hands.

"Took her long enough to respond!"

"Respond? When did you send a letter?"

"From Winterhold, chief! I sent her a warning about Ulfric's threat on her life. Told her to get outta there. If she took this long to respond, she must have found somewhere safe and took her time writing this thank you down! I can't wait!"

Morte seems genuinely thrilled and happy as he begins to read. "I tell you chief, I've met a lot of girls, but this Gerdur, she's really something. I swear when we're done with this dragon business I'm- "

He stops talking as he pours over the letter, his eyes losing their joy and filling with remorse.

"What's it say Morte? You don't look happy."

He doesn't say anything but merely starts to float away.

"Morte! Morte what gives?" You look down at the letter but leap back as it bursts into flames.

"Paper…. Burnnnnnnnnnnnnnnable….."

You sigh frustrated and move to follow Morte but Ignus blocks you.

"Leave him….. we have work… take me to the housssssssssssssse….. I mussssssssst bassssssssssk in the dessssssssssssstruction…."

"Nordom will assist Morte. Director recommends cardiac arrest?"

"No Nordom. I think he wants some alone time. Let's go check out this house.

Nordom looks confused but nods and follows the burning man, bobbing as he moves. You rub your forehead as you follow.

"Why can't I travel with normal people?"

…

"Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnooooooooooooooo….. Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnoooooooooooooo! It issssssssssssssssssss not enough… not enough!"

You don't know what he's yapping about. The house is clearly burnt. Someone did a real number on the place. Sure, some remnants still stand, but it's done through and through.

"Not enough…. Not enough! Not enough asssssssssssssssshessssssssssss… Ammature…. I will not accept it….. will not….. mussssssssst burn it all….."

"No Ignus! It's burned enough!":

"No….. not enough… Musssssssssssst have more…. More!"

You stand in front of him, trying your best to look threatening. You imagine you just look like something else to ignite.

"I've had enough of this! I am your master, you call me that yourself. And I command you to stop!"

He looks at you stunned, unable to believe you spoke back to him like that. That shock is quickly replaced by a savage grin.

"Why ssssssssssso angry? Thisssssss isssssssss what you need, isssssssssssn't it? A killer? A warrior?"

You stare wide eyed. You've never heard him speak so calmly. You and he stare at each other, neither one making a move.

"I… what are you saying?"

"I live for death… there issssssssssss ssssssssstill too much life here….. hence, it isssssssssssss not enough for me…."

He leans in close to you, the heat is now overwhelming.

"Thisssssssssss issssssssssss my purposssssssssssse…. to bring death to thisssssssssss world… asssssssssss it isssssssss your purpossssssssssssse to bring death to dragonsssssssssssssss…. I ask only that you let me have thisssssssssssss… let me burn what reaminssssssssss… let me have this…"

"No! No! You can't!"

You both jump. Well in Ignus' case, he kind of floats a little higher. You look about in all directions, until you determine the voice came from another room of the house.

"What madnesssssssssss isssssssssss thisssssssssssssss… There issssssssssss a ssssssssssssolution to all problemsssssssssssss….. burnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn…"

"No! Fire made this happen! Please no more!"

You make your way into the room from which the voice arises. You aren't sure what you expect to see, but it's certainly not a little ghost girl.

"Uh, ok. Not sure what to say."

"Nothing to sssssssssssssay… only burnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn…."

"It already burned. It was hot, and I was scared. Now it's cold and dark, and I'm not scared anymore."

"Cold….. dark….. poor thing…. Tell me…. How did the flamessssssssssss tassssssssste? Did they bring purposssssssssse to your life? Did they ssssssssssset you free?"

"Actually, they hurt. Like. A lot."

"Observation: Flames = pain. Logistical."

"Gah! Nordom! Where did you come from?"

"Confirmation: Nordom has stood outside, engaging with his crossbows about the morality of using skooma."

"Oh! Is that a toy? Thank you! It's so cute!"

"Cuteness is a subjective term. I prefer the term, fearsome cubed warrior!"

The little girl giggles. You find yourself smiling a little at that. You don't realize how much you desire the company of normal sane companions until you stare at the otherwise sane ghost girl.

"Look uh…"

"Helgi! My father named me Helgi!"

"Father? You mean Hroggar?"

"Yes. Have you met him? He's such a good guy, isn't he?"

"Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnoooooooooooooo…. Terrible….. could not even incinerate a houssssssssssssse properly… worthlesssssssssssssssssssssss!"

"Wow mister. You have some weird friends."

"You have no idea. He once set my horse on fire."

"Horse on fire? Wow, that sounds fun! You guys must have a lot of fun, huh?"

"I don't know if that's what we'd call fun Helgi…"

"I know! Let's play a game! Hide and seek!"

"Wait what?"

"Hide and seek! I hide, and you try to find me!"

"Yessssssssssssss…. You hide….. I find you….. I burnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn you…"

"That's…. not how we usually do it mister. Boy, you guys are extreme!"

"Analysis: Hide and Seek = incineration by Ignus. Soldier training montage?"

"No, it's a game. There's no burning. Right Ignus?"

"Yessssssssssssss….. alwayssssssssss burnnnnnnnnnnnnnnninnnnnnnnng…."

"No! There will be no burning in this town! That's an order! You'll do as I say! Or have you forgotten who the master is?"

If looks could kill, you'd be in the grave right now. You see his flames bristle. You think you might have pushed him too far. Even Nordom seems aware of the danger and backs up.

"Boy mister! Like I said, you're extreme! Talking to that guy like that! If only you'd been here, maybe you could have stopped the fire!"

That catches your attention, and thankfully Ignus' too. He floats past you and stares at the girl.

"You know who burnnnnnnnnnnnnnned thisssssssssssss missssssssssserable sssssssshack? Tell Ignussssssssssssssss…."

"Sure, thing mister! If you can find me, I'll tell you everything. 1 thing though. We have to wait until nightfall for my friend to come out."

"Friend? Can I burnnnnnnnnnnnn her?"

She giggles again. "Man mister. You have real issues! I love it! You can try but she might have issue with that."

Ignus cackles to himself while you watch him worriedly.

"Query: Who should Nordom burn?"

"No one! You're not burning anyone! Jesus lady of pain," You grasp your forehead.

"Worry not…. Thissssssssssss friend sssssssssshould sssssssssuffice….."

"All right, great! I'll go off and hide now! Come find me when the sun goes down and I'll tell you what you burned us! See you then crazy guys! I can't wait!"

The ghost then fades leaving the three of you there.

"Confirm director. Should this unit pursue the female specter upon the turning of the planet's axis to reflect away from the sun?"

"Yeah sure, do that. Ignus? You gonna be ok?"

"Yesssssssssssss massssssssssster." You can't help but think he says it sarcastically. "Worry not… I can wait….. I can wait for thisssssssssss friend…" He stares at you very hard then.

"One way or another, ssssssssssssssomething will burnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn….. Master…"

He gives a mocking bow as you stand in the center of the ruined home with Nordom talking to his crossbows.

…

"Another! Keep them coming buddy!"

"Just a friendly reminder. These are costing you."

"Relax buddy. My friend will take care of it. Just do your job and good things'll come your way!"

"Right….. You need help with that pal? I don't see any hands."

"Please! I've done this for years berk! I'm an expert at hand's free banging!"

"Uh, this isn't banging. This is drinking."

"One and the same for me buddy! Just use your mouth in both cases and they'll come running! Or at least that's what I thought! F*king harlots!"

"Sir," the bartender tries to reassure with him. "Can you try to keep it down? Customers are starting to notice."

"Of course, they're noticing! How often do you see someone this sexy?" He floats a little more in the air and turns to address the rest of the bar.

"Whaddaya think ladies? Like what you see? Come on, take a closer look! I'm single now! All thanks to that no good Ulfric f*king Stormcock!"

"Hey! No one talks that way about the future king of Skyrim!" A man rises up from one of the tables. "You owe your life to him, boneboy!"

"What life? I'm not alive you dumb shit!"

"That's no reason to show such blatant disrespect to the savior of this plane! The empire seeks to take everything from us and you insult our great hope? Talos curse you!"

"Excuse me, but without the empire, Skyrim would be a desolate landscape devoid of law. I think you should try to learn the facts rather than react to anti-intellectual propaganda."

"Pardon, berk? Did you just suggest the words of Jarl Ulfric are anti-intellectual?"

"Oh I didn't suggest. I flat out said it. Jarl Ulfric appeals to emotion, not logic. He shows no understanding of the planes or alignment. He doesn't even believe in the rule of three."

"The rule of three is a Baatezu scam, nothing more! No more real than your manhood!"

"You dare question my manliness? Stormcloak brute! This plane is better off without you!"

As is often the case in the planes, reasoning gives way to chaos and the whole bar is suddenly a brawling ground between supporters and opponents of Ulfric Stormcloak. Morte floats above the wreckage, grinning at the power a few words can have.

"Now then." He pulls a sack of coins from the pocket of an unconscious Ulfric supporter. "I believe this should cover my tab good gentleman. Jarl Ulfric gives his condolences." He gives a mocking bow and floats out of the bar.

"Heh heh heh. Pissing off a bunch of damn Stormcloaks and stealing their money. Almost beats hearing from-"

His happy mood suddenly stops as he remembers the source of his sorrow.

"Oh right. Thanks for nothing Ulfric, you greedy bastard. You took someone from me without even knowing it!"

He loses control and lets loose with a round of profanity surpasses anything else he's done to this point in his afterlife. And he's seen some moments, believe it.

"Query: Director? What is Haggis?"

"Nordom! Don't you dare mention that again! Never!"

"But director.."

"I don't care of you shoot every villager in Morthal. Do not mention such a vile disgusting substance again!"

"But Morte…"

"Morte! You see what you did? You taught him about Haggis! You and your foul mouth!"

"Oh please buddy! This mouth has pulled your ass out of the fire more times than you can count! Hic! In fact, if it weren't for me, youda lost your head!"

You sigh. "Morte, you may be dead but you still smell of ale. You've been drinking. What's going on?"

"Why have I been drinking? Why not chief? After all the shit I've been through since I met you, who says I don't deserve a drink? I've been busting my balls trying to keep you from losing your memory, turning into a giant rat, and going on another rampage! And how do you reward me? By pushing me off a dragon and leaving me to freeze!"

"Morte, you know I didn't push you off. You fell off because you have no hands!"

"Oh, going for the hands are ya? Hic! Typical of ya ain't it? Attacking disabilities! Well I said it before and I'll say it again! I don't need hands! I can pleasure myself just fine. And myself is plenty enough for this stud, I assure you!"

You grab Morte's head aka body and face it towards you.

"Are you sure? Are you sure you can pleasure yourself! You can't let women walk past without doing all you can to impress them. You follow me all around and huff and puff when I don't listen to you. You can't pleasure yourself. You need hands. You need other people. And you certainly need Gerdur."

At that Morte blanches. Or at least you think he does. In truth it's hard to tell because he has no skin color.

"Don't chief. Please. Just don't. Not now."

"Why not Morte? My journal is filled with mentions of her by you. You just said yourself how she wasn't like anyone else you had ever met. And then you take one look at that letter she sent, and you do something I've tried to make you do for months. You shut up!"

You wait for him to unshut up. But no, he continues to just stare at you. Or more accurately, through you.

"Look, Morte. I need you. Ok? I admit it I need you. You're the only semi-sane partner with me right now and I need you at your best. So what's biting you?"

"Definition: Bite. Cut with teeth into something. Reference to Morte's mouth?"

"Heh heh. That's a good point cube. Nice one chief. Didn't think you had a sense of humor."

"Yeah yeah. So what did that letter say?"

"I- She said she'd kill me if she saw me again. She said she always thought of me as a failure in every way. But when I accused her oh so manly hero of threatening her life, well….. now she sees me as Tanar'ri shit. Imperial scum. I mean I don't….."

His voice breaks, even as he hics from the influence of alcohol. You think he might be on the verge of tears.

"I don't, hic, get it chief. I know I'm an asshole, I don't deny it. But, hic, I do one decent thing and it costs me. I mean, hic, what the hell!? WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO TO GET SOME RESPECT?"

"Well hello there."

You all jump into the air and turn to see a beautiful woman staring at Morte with a strange smirk. She wears a strange robe that covers her entire body save her face. To your surprise, she appears to have a strange hump covered by the robe. Yet she does not hunch over, but rather stands tall and proud.

"I uh. Wow. Uh. Hey. Hello."

"Forgive me handsome. I happened to hear you, and I gotta say. You deserve better."

"Hic? Scuse me?"

"I'm just saying, whoever this bitch is that told you to piss off needs to douse her head in hell fire. If she only heard your passion, she would've denounced that arrogant bearded asshole in a hearbeat."

"I- really? Damn, if only every chit could see that in me. I mean sure, I don't have hands, but I sure know how to be passionate to!"

"Indeed, you sure know how to give it with that mouth. And It's been too long since I've met a man who can give it like you do."

You can't help but think that's not the kind of pickup line that would work on most, but Morte is not most and he appears to be eating it up.

"Well uh. Damn where have you been all my afterlife?"

"Here and there and everywhere. Men everywhere want a piece of me, but they can't handle me once they realize what I've seen and endured. But you, I think maybe can." She leans in and seemingly sniffs the skull. "Is that Baator I smell on you?"

Morte's eyes widen. "You know Baator? Holy crap. I-"

"Want to talk about it? I have a great place to show scars I earned. I'm sure a manly man like you would want to see."

"…..Chief. Take five. I'll call you when I need you."

"Wait….. Baator. Why is that so familiar?"

But too late. Morte is floating off, clearly enamored with this mysterious woman. She looks back at you with a strange glint in her eyes

"Director, the planet is rotating away from the sun. Nightfall should begin in the next half hour. Recommend recruit Ignus and begin search for transparent child.

"Fine. Let's go play some hide and seek

…

Turns out hunting a dead girl in the dead of night is harder than you would think. Sure, with you, everything always ends up being much harder than it should be. Even with Ignus lighting the darkness, you can't find any sign of the deceased girl.

"Where issssssssssssss sssssssssshe… thisssssssssss ghosssssssssst and her friend? I wisssssssssssh to disssssssssscusssssssssss thissssssssss poor usssssssssssse of flamesssssssssssss…."

"Nordom does not believe ghost or mysterious fried have interest in discussing proper application of combustion to households."

"Uh Nordom. I think you mean mysterious friend, not fried."

"Acknowledgement. Refer to fried as friend. Gramnitudes! Gramnitudes!"

"Uh, and that last word is- "

"Danger! Danger! Detecting movement over hill yonder! Recommend analysis before engagement- "

"Wait Ignus! Wait!"

But does Ignus listen? Of course not. That would be too easy. He floats over the hill and immediately you hear him and someone else shouting and fighting.

You rush over the hill and find Ignus setting the other person on fire who then falls down before a coffin half buried in the snow.

"Ignus, what the f*k!? You can't-"

"Oh, thank you! Thank you burning man! I knew you could do it!"

You look all about for the girl's voice but then determine it to be coming from the coffin itself.

"Uh, Helgi? You in there?"

"Laulette was told to burn mommy and me but she didn't want to. She wanted to play with me forever and ever. She kissed me and tried to take me away, but I'm all burned up. The flames won after all burning man. I'm tired. I'm going to sleep for a while now."

Ignus smiles at that.

"She wassssssssssssss foolisssssssssssssh to attack the beassssssssssssst…. Human or not…."

"Human or not? What do you mean Ignus?"

"Look at the corpssssssssssse….."

"What, the corpse you burnt?"

"Director: Analysis suggests incinerated subject was not human."

"What? How can you tell?"

"Observe the structure. Contained on the back are strange appendages. Even incinerated, you can tell yes?"

You look over the body and find to your shock that yes in fact something is attached to the back.

"Are those… wings?"

"What in the layers of Baator is this?"

You all turn to see the Jarl herself.

"Explanation: Woman = Laulette. Corpse resembles other non-human humanoid. Wings resemble some form of devil."

"Laulette? Wings?" The jarl takes a closer look at the corpse and becomes shocked.

"I- I don't believe it. I've never seen Laulette without that coat on. She always said it was a hump but looking at it now…."

"A hump you say?"

"Yes. Just like her friend Alva. They were always close, always wearing that strange clothing over them."

Your eyes widen in worry.

_Morte._

"Where does this Alva live?"

10 minutes later, you and your 2 companions stand in front of a seemingly normal house. Yet knowing what you know now, it exudes a certain menacing vibe.

"This is Alva's home. Hroggar moved in with her shortly after the fire. Normally I wouldn't allow something like this. But given the circumstances, well. I'll let you have a word. Please try not to harm Hroggar though. I don't think he was aware of his mistress' true nature when he took her side."

"Sure thing Jarl. Ignus stay outside for this."

"But the flamesssssssssssss…."

"Can wait. You got to use them tonight once. Just wait here and think of that woman burning and her skin charring."

That brings a smile to his face as you turn towards the door.

"Observation: Movement below residence. Not human."

"No indeed. Better. Much better."

The woman you encountered before walks up with her coat no longer on. And on her back the wings that the burning corpse bore.

"Huh. Amazing you hid that with a frigging coat."

"Mortals are ignorant. I believe you know something about that."

"I suppose you have a point. But they do give me money. So I'll have to ask you to come along, whatever the hell you are."

She giggles.

"You don't know? My my. You are hopeless. Just like dear Morte said."

Your eyes widen and you grit your teeth.

"Look lady. I've dealt with far worse than you. Even if I don't remember it. Hand the skull over now or get a taste of dragonfire."

"Dragonfire? You? Please. You may carry the soul of a dragon but you are not one yourself. Your friend made that clear. Such unwarranted arrogance."

"Morte says a lot of stupid things, but he's my only friend. You better tell me where he is now."

"Query: What about Nordom?"

"Yeah sure. Whatever."

"See. Just like he said. Using mortals as you please. Latching onto them and draining them dry. Kind of like me." She smirks and steps a little closer.

"You know that's quite the collection of scars you've got. A man who can take pain like that. I'm impressed."

She places her hand on your shoulder and traces it along one of the scars. You feel a new feeling settle over you.

"People look at this with disgust, don't they? So typical of them. Always judging a book by its cover. Look at me. You'd think after all this time, they'd learn beauty does not equal good. But they don't. They go with their emotions. Their base impulses. Never considering there's more than what their senses see."

Her hand raises your chin up. Your eyes match hers. You don't want to say it but damn. She is a sight for sore eyes.

"You on the other hand. They fear you the instant they witness your scarred visage. They think you are what I am. A monster. They don't understand that these scars are a thing of beauty. A sign of strength."

That feeling is growing stronger. There's no denying what it is now. Lust. You're actually getting turned on by this creature that stole your friend and has done the same to who knows how many other people.

"I know there's more to you. I've seen the beauty in the ugliest of things. I know there's more to it than appearance. I'm like you, you see. Lost in a world that doesn't understand me."

You know it's against your better judgement, but you feel your pulse racing, your excitement growing. How does she do it? Without any weapons at all, she's got you pinned.

"I can help you. Be someone who recognizes what's beneath. Let me show you."

She leans in close to your face. You put up no resistance. Her mere presence is too much. You're screwed.

Or at least you are until she jumps back with a yelp and an arrow lodged in her knee.

"Gramnitudes subject Alva! Subject has given Nordom directive for stage seventh! Rescue director and Morte from subject Alva and give Nordom's crossbows further knowledge about the planes!"

Nordom readies another bolt but Alva knocks him off his feet. Before she can finish him however, you release your inner dragon.

"FUS DOO RAH!"

The hag is blown off her feet and launched against the back wall. As she rises back up, you grab her throat and apply pressure with your hands emitting lightning.

"Son of a baatezu! No wonder you can't get a girl if you treat her this way!"

"First of all, I believe the term is son of a bitch. If you're going to mess with humans as least get their language right. And second, if a girl treats me bad I'll treat her bad. No matter how pretty they are."

She reaches for your throat but you zap it with your other hand, effectively paralyzing it.

"Now for some questions madam. From an outward monster to an inner monster. Why did you burn down that house? You got any more friends besides that Laulette lady? And where the hell is Morte?"

"Laulette? What have you done with her?"

"Affirmative: Ignus granted Laulette a level 5 decay class as recorded by the USDA Forest Service."

"…..What the hell does that mean you idiot toy!?"

"Basically, he means our friend turned your friend to ash."

The expression on her face turns from confused to outright livid.

"You killed my sister! My sister who I have known for 8,000 years! Filthy animal!"

With previously unseen strength, she punches you in your chest and sends you reeling across the room, hitting Nordom and tumbling you both into a heap.

"Tough luck for you scarred man. I was going to drag your soul to hell through pleasure, but now I'm going to do it the hard way. You are nothing to the power of the abyss! Nothing to-"

"Flamessssssssssssssssss! Yesssssssssssssssssss! Nothing to the flamessssssssssssssssssssssssssss!"

The door bursts open in a blaze of glory and madness as Ignus (surprise!) ignores your orders and launches great balls of fire at the winged woman who screams bloody murder and dives for her life out the nearest window.

"Ha! Cowardly beassssssssssst! You light flamesssssssssssssss yet do not appreciate them! You shall become assssssssssh for that!"

"Ignus, remember control! Ignus! Listen!"

Ignus does not listen and tears out the door chasing after the woman, leaving a trail of flames that began to spread along the walls.

"Observation: Flames are using wood of house as fuel to move."

"Thank you for your insight Nordom. I'll tell the Greybeards. They'll appreciate it."

"What have you done? You've burned Alva's house! My love's house!"

A Nord man with a beard runs up out from the cellar and charges. With one simple blow, you knock him to the ground.

"Get out of here!" The jarl comes walking in with one hand over her mouth to keep out the smoke. "Bloody hell! That's Hroggar there!"

"Hey, he attacked first!"

"Well pick him up! Can't have him burning to death! Wouldn't do right for your reputation would it?"

You couldn't care less about the guy who tried to kill you but you guess the law's the law. You hoist him over your shoulder and run out before the entrance falls behind you,

"Well it was a lovely house on one hand. On the other…. It did belong to a demon woman. So…. No hard feelings I guess?"

"Oh no. You're not done yet scar man. That demon woman is still on the loose and so is your living match. So, if you could. Please take care of that won't you?"

You sigh to yourself. And just when you had gotten rid of the crazy bastard! But that bitch was your only connection to Morte, however annoying he might be. And if he was in pursuit, you had to follow.

"What the hell's going on Jarl Idgrod? All this smoke interrupted my beauty se- er sleep!"

"Hey that's Hroggar! Way to knock that bastard out! He deserved it for his family!"

"I told you it was the burning man! He lit this house to finish the job!"

"No! It was the head of Vecna! He seeks to rebuild his body with the blood of the innocent!"

"No, it was the Godsmen! They seek to test us!"

"Oh, quiet all of you! The situation is under control. Can we get our mages here please to control the flames? The scarred man will deal with the rest."

"The rest? What do you mean Jarl?"

"Answer: Subject Alva = demon from the Abyssal planes. Subject controlled subject Hroggar with mating hormones. Our friend Ignus = man on fire, is currently in pursuit."

"WHAT!?" The entire crowd drops their jaws.

"Nordom! Shh!"

"Riot time!"

"Aye! Grab your swords, and blood clots!"

"Oh boy." The jarl places her head in her hands. "This is going to be one wild night."

…

"This way Nameless one! Hurry! Glory awaits!"

"Director, balding humanoid wishes to engage in sexual procreation."

"I don't think that's what he wants at all Nordom."

"Oh, we wish to engage in procreation walking cube! Procreation with their corpses and blood!"

You sigh. "Well it looks like this town is all ready to fight without me. I guess you don't really need me huh?"

"Oh no, scarred man! You're in this too! Together we're going to push the blood war back!"

"Analysis: Blood War constitutes region of planes at minimum 990,000,000,000 times larger than city of Morthal. Chance of successful repeal of full combined might by this city = 0%."

"Spare me numbers! Show me swords! I'll chose that over math anyday!"

"Nordom concurs that the issue no longer equals total logic."

"Logic? Nordom, we're chasing after winged demons who control their prey with sex, They've already got one of my companions, a talking skull, and are being chased by our other companion, a guy on fire. There is no logic to any of this!"

"Screw logic!" The man grins wildly. These are the planes! There's no logic to anything!"

"Thonnir! They went in there! In that cave!"

Indeed the remnant of flames and destruction lead to a cave a fair distance out of town. You can see the glow of flames and screams bellowing out from within

"All right. Looks like your burning man is already shooting the place up. We'd best get in there."

As if in direct response to that claim, a woman with wings like Laulette and Alva comes running out covered in flames and screaming.

"Help! Please Help! The flames! They burn! They burnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn! Help!"

But no one does help. Either because they're too shocked from the sight, or too enthralled. Probably both.

The demon runs about screaing for a bit more before the flames overtake her and she collapses.

Thonnir looks about the mob who suddenly seems to have lost their appetite and stares at the charred remains.

"Well I guess your friend has already made himself at home scarred man. Wouldn't want him to have all the fun would we? Who's with me?"

"Actually Thonnir. Now that I think about it, I left the pot burning."

"Er, right. I have to pick up my kids from sword practice."

"You know, I used to be an adventurer like you. Until I took an arrow in the knee."

"What are you talking about? You've never had an arrow in the knee! You're perfectly fine!"

"Oh, lady! There it's acting up again! Well guess I'd better get that looked at, hadn't I?"

"Right and I'd better get that… thing taken care of. Before it…. Escapes."

"Right, that. Mine too. Well, best of luck Thonnir. Oh and you too Nameless One."

"Query: May Nordom receive some luck as well, gentlemug?"

"Yeah, sure. All the luck in the world for you, little…. Thing. Bye!"

"Director: Nordom suspects townsfolk have suffered a major increase in estrogen."

"No shit. So much for taking on the blood war." You turn to Thonnir. "So, still fancy your chances?"

"Hah! More than ever!"

"Excuse me? There's just three of us now."

"Yes, and we've rooted out the weak! They wouldn't last a minute in there, and neither would we having to watch their backs! But now that it's the worthy few, and three at that, we don't have to keep each other walking! Combine that with your friend in there, and I'd say our chances just got fancier than ever!"

"Actually, I think it's more likely we're going to all burn to death."

"We all have to go that way sooner or later, my friend. If we die, at least we died for a great cause. And if we live, this will be a day you'll never forget."

"Yeah I'll bet." You roll your eyes. "So, you me and a rogue modron against a whole colony of demons? You sure you want to do this?"

"Oh yes, dreadlocks! Just stick close, and I'll keep you safe! Au revoir!" And with that he charges in.

"Director: I have run a scan on those last two words. They do not appear in any dialect native to the planes that I am aware of."

"Well neither does a modron who talks to his crossbows. Give it time."

"Should Nordom follow the man into the burning cave?"

"I guess. We can't leave Ignus alone to his devices. And Morte is in there somewhere. I'm not ready to lose him yet."

"Acknowledgement. Nordom and crossbows; Charge!"

You follow him in unwillingly and are immediately hit with the smell of smoke and the intense heat of fire.

Throughout the chaos, you can see that there this place was set up for living with furniture lit on fire scattered about. Through the screams and crackling, one sound stands out. Ignus' cackling.

"Ignus! Ignus get over here now!"

Ignus of course does not listen to you. So you turn to Nordom.

"Nordom. New objective. We need to get Morte out of here before the whole place goes up in smoke."

"Roger sir. Nordom and crossbows stand ready. Lead the way!"

"Who's Roger? You know what, never mind? Come on."

You wade your way through the destruction, one hand over your mouth. If you get out of this, you're going to kill that damn pyro. Once you figure how to, of course.

"Nordom detects many lifeforms running about approximate to our location. Curiously they do not appear to be attacking."

You suppose that's one benefit to Ignus' fun. Everyone's too busy to deal with you. Lucky you?

"Come on you dog. Do your worst. I can take it."

You can suddenly make out Thonnir's voice as you reach a part of the caves not yet blessed by fire. You slow down and look around the corner to view a large open room populated by more women with wings, but also other far less humanoid creatures.

"You hear me? I'll not submit no matter what. No matter what!"

"Oh, shut it you oaf!" Morte responds angrily next to him. "You got nothing on these berks!"

"Cold feet already Skull? I knew you were a fool trusting that harpy, but a coward? You talk a tough game but can't match it up! Typical!"

"Typical? Whaddaya mean typical? How many floating skulls do you know? You know what's typical of Nords? Stereotyping!"

"What is typical of mortals is endlessly bickering amongst themselves. Never learning from their mistakes. Digging their own graves."

This comes from a great dog-like creature with 4 hands. 2 ending in claws, and the others in pincers. He stands tall with great bulging muscles. Despite his appearance, you sense great intelligence behind those eyes.

"Orthjolf!" A creature with black leathery skin and a long curved horn coming from its head speaks up. "This place is burning. Most of our kin are roasted. Nothing we do can slow that monster down. I fear our mission here is done."

Orthjolf sighs. His pincers opening and closing in annoyance.

"Centuries we have spent together have we not Stalf? You have forever been my loyal Babau. Never have we failed to slay any foe. Yet a few friends of yours burn up and suddenly you wish to parlay?"

The creature blanches. "Parlay? No Orthjolf. I'm just saying that we are in serious danger here. Look what he did to Alva!"

Indeed, you see Alva lying on the ground not far away. You can hear her desperate breathing. Ignus got her bad.

"She was careless. I will not make the same mistake. Lord Harkon wants this town and he will have it. And no man on fire will change that." He turns to Morte.

"Now then skull. You carry the stench of Baator on you. Which can only mean you came from the pillar itself."

"What if I did?"

"That means you carry a lot of knowledge about the planes. So I'd like perhaps if you could tell me about the location of elder scrolls, hmm?"

"Aw, does doggy want a treat? Kneel down and beg and I might consider it."

You turn back to Nordom and whisper silently.

"I can't beat them all by myself. Go get Ignus. Tell him there's more to burn here."

"Affirmative director. Onwards!"

"Who said that?"

"Shit! You gotta learn to whisper. Go Nordom! Go!"

As the little cretin hobbles back up the passage, you turn to find yourself face to face with Staff. Or was it Stalf? Bad memory problems remember?

"There you are my friend! I fear I slipped and tumbled into this trap! But fear not! We will prevail against any challenge!"

"Chief you dumbass. What are you thinking? Get out now!"

"Yes indeed. For once listen to the skull, why don't you?" Orthfolj looks at you with some amusement. "You don't appear to be in any shape to fight anyone. Would you like someone to look at those scars? Our girls are the finest-"

"Him." Alva looks up from her cot. Even through the burns, you can make out the anger on her face. "That's the bastard that killed Laulette!"

"Oh that was you, was it? I suppose I owe you thanks then."

Alva looks with shock at the big dog. "Thanks? He murdered our sister!"

"She failed. If she could be killed by a mere mercenary, she would have died sooner or later. This man simply showed it that much quicker. Spared us and Lord Harkon a headache down the road."

"How dare you! That was my flesh and blood." She stands up but is grabbed around the throat by one of the dog's pincers.

"She was weak, just like you. You who led them right to our door in your panic. She didn't deserve to live. And neither do you."

She squirms in anger but is helpless to fight back against the creature's superior strength and eventually goes limp.

"Never trust a pretty woman. Isn't that right skull?"

Morte simply grumbles in response.

"What the hell are you?" You ask.

"Tanar'ri chief. Demons of chaos from the abyss. Live to oppose order and all that good stuff."

"Please, you say that as if there has ever been any good from order. Do you not yourself detest the little tyrant Ulfric Stormcloak. How he has stolen your freedom, and now your woman?"

"Stow it mutt! You're no better. Running around dicking with whoever you want because you can."

You snicker at that, causing Morte to glare.

"I don't see what's so funny about this chief."

"Well, no offense Morte. But that's more or less the exact definition of you."

Thonnir and even the Tanar'ri chuckle at that while the skull flares up.

"This isn't a joke! These guys kill, torture, seduce and pull souls into their stupid war!"

"There is nothing stupid about the Blood war, pest. We are fighting to dismantle law and tyranny. To help the planes give into their passions."

"Ha! I did that twice today. One turned out to be Stormcloak hippie, the other a succubus!"

"Well I could show you how to properly tempt them. Show you how to woo people at your feet! No one would run from you again! They would scramble over each other to have a piece of you!"nterview a giant dog.

"And in return what exactly?" You ask genuinely curious. How often do you get to interview a giant dog?

"Simple. Help us win the war for the planes. Help us abolish the evils of the law. Help us abolish the evils of Asmodeus and his scourge. Help chaos reign! Help make a world where those like you and I can live freely!"

You and Morte stare at each other and nod.

"And Lim-Lims will fly out of my but. Sorry pal. Dogs are not this man's best friend."

The dog merely grins. "Well then. This dog, forgive me, Glabrezu will have your head for a chew toy. Then I will drown you in abyss fire for all time."

"Fire…. Flamesssssssssssssss….. You know nothing of either….. You will learn….."

Ignus busts in to save the day hands literally a-blazing. The creatures in the room scream and scatter. The Glabrezu reaches for Morte who blasts him back with a shout, but not before one of the beast's pincer's wrap around Thonnir's waist.

"At least we get one souvenir from all this hmm?"

"Hold on pal!" You rush forward but the flames block your way.

"Get out scar man! Fear not! I'll be fine! Tell my family-"

"Fine? I wouldn't count on it." Orthjolf looks at you. "You've made a powerful enemy dead man. I would enjoy what time you have left."

"And I would piss on out doggy! Run back to your master for a chew toy!" Morte shouts.

You can't make out anything anymore. You can't make out the Tanar'ri. Nor Thonnir. All you can see is the smoke and the fire and Nordom taking you by the hand and leading you out.

"Executing stage 9th, rescue director from burning cave!"

"So glad you're here rubex cube!"

…

You are sitting at the bar in the local tavern several hours later. By that point, you had already lost your memory and needed to be reminded by the Jarl and Morte why the hell you were traveling with a skull, a guy on fire and a cube with crossbows. You then had to sit through a long gruesome tale involving near executions, dragons, and giant rats culminating in today's epic with horny demons and two families torn apart. One murdered by the man who was being controlled through sex (just like real life) and another where the man had been kidnapped by said horny demons and you had to explain why.

"Uh excuse me, sir?"

"Oh hi. Hroggar right?"

"Yes sir. I just wanted to say again thank you. You know for saving my life."

"Too bad it couldn't save your family."

"Yes well. I will take full responsibility for that. It is my mistake to atone for. Not yours."

"Well the way I hear it. I've made some mistakes myself. So, I'm in no position to judge."

He nods sadly.

"Your uh… fiery friend… He had some words for me."

"He doesn't appear to have many words actually. Mostly just flames and burning."

"Yes well. He had some more this time around. About my poor burning skills, and my poor appreciation for flames."

"Sounds like him." Morte the skull floats in.

"Oh, hiya Morte. Bored of all the attention?"

"Never. In fact, I wanted some from you."

"Oh well again, thank you Nameless One. I'll never forget this."

"He seems to be handling this all shockingly well. Especially considering he technically killed his family."

"How about you chief? How you holding up?"

"Why do you think I'm drinking? It's a lot to take in. And every day you say is like this?"

"Everyone. Except of course you usually don't have booze to drink them away."

"Nor do you. But Nordom says that changed yesterday."

"Yeah well. You know I flirt a lot. Hell, it may border on harassment."

"Border? Sounds like full-on harassment."

"Ok fine. Maybe I overdo it sometimes. But Gerdur…. I really wanted to make something of it. I really cared about her. And for her to take that jerk Ulfric's side…. I just didn't take it well."

He pauses a second. "But you know, the more I think about it, the more I realize how lucky I am to have friends. Friends like you."

"What about the other two?" He shrugs just as they wander in.

"Oh, hey Ignus. Enjoy setting that cave alight?"

"Yessssssssss…. very preferable to that failed houssssssssssssse… Hroggar hasssssssssss much to learn…. as do thossssssssssse demonsssssssssssss…."

"Oh right. Those losers. You mentioned them. Anything we should be concerned with."

"We'll worry about that bridge when we cross it chief. Way I see it, next to dragons, they ain't much."

You look around at your odd trio. Strange companions. But then you're not normal yourself.

"Director, what is stage 9th?"

"According to the journal, we get to go blow something."

Morte spits his drink out across your face.

"I meant a horn Morte. Not a woman."

"Oh, you're no fun."

 


	16. Ustengrav

"Attention Morte. I wish to address Gerdur."

"No Nordom. I've let that bridge burn. Let's just go get this damn horn for those arrogant old bastards so they can tell chief here to shout and stomp his feet. As if that will somehow help him fight dragons! Ha!"

"Analysis: Deflection of subject coupled with anger towards former subject suggests inner psychological torment. Discussion of subjects = temporary positive emotional feedback?"

"Uh… no. My only torment right now is you."

"Ignus! Ignus, stop it now!"

"Nooooooooooo! Mussssssst burnnnnnnn! Musssssssssss burnnnnnnnnnnn everything!"

"Ok my second torment. After flame McNuggets there."

"Nordom does not understand intense hatred Morte has for Ignus. Both are hot-headed and aggressive. Both should work in tight coordination and mutual admonition., no?"

"Again…. Just, no. And the word is admiration. Not… whatever the hell you just said."

"What did you just say Nordom?"

"Oh no. Don't ask chief. Just more garbledy gook."

"So, like you then?"

"Hey! Don't be like that chief! I offer advice and support."

"You are the plucky comic relief I guess. That makes you good for something."

"Oh, that and so much more chief! I am comic relief like nobody else!"

"Nordom does not understand comic relief. Could Morte provide example = understanding?"

"Gladly. Why did the monkey fall out of the tree?"

"Query: Why?"

"Because it was already dead!"

Nordom looks at you confused. For once you and he are on the same page.

"Massssssssster… I mussssssssssst sssssssssssset ssssssssssssssssomething alight….. I beg of you!"

"You just did. Nearly the whole forest!"

"I jussssst wanted to ssssshow that fool how to properly burn wood…"

"Oh, for the lady's sake!" Morte finally intervenes. "First of all, the dude was hypnotized by sex. He didn't do it willingly. Second, it was a house! A house, not a frigging forest. Third, genius! He's not here! So how would he learn? You ain't gonna send the image to him in a post-it note are ya?"

"He ssssssssshall sssssssssee the sssssssssmoke….. he sssssssshall bathe in itssssssssssss glory…"

"Mama mia chief, how do you find guys like this?"

"Same way I found you probably. Stuck in a bad situation with no way out but to trust the loon."

"Well this loon has done you wonders chief. These two are….. debatable." He looks over at Nordom talking to his crossbows.

"Masssssssster pleasssssssse…. Ignussssssss begsssssssssss you….. jussssssssst a tiny one to tide Ignussssssssss over until the next sssssssscreaming innocent…."

"Fine. I'll go get you a plant and you can watch it slowly burn away. Its leaves peeling off, and its skin charring. How does that sound?"

Ignus gives a disgruntled noise but nods his head. Morte leans in to whisper in your ear.

"I'm telling you chief, he's a walking time bomb. We need to lose this berk before he burns us or that horn we need. You dig me?"

"Affirmative. Nordom will dig into you. Recommend use of shovel."

"Patience Morte," you reassure him ignoring Nordom. "Patience."

And that's how you find yourself sitting around a fire with a slowly burning plant in the center.

"Morte is it true that…"

"Oh, shut up!"

"I find you most curmudgeonly."

"So uh Ignus? How do you enjoy the crackle."

"Very nice….. Long to sssssssssee it bigger… everywhere."

Morte coughs.

"So, while we're sitting here Ignus, maybe you can help me understand something?"

"Ignussssssss hasssss helped you undersssssssstand enough….."

"Not according to my journal. According to this, you still haven't told me how you became like this."

"You know…. Deep down…. You have alwayssssssss known."

"Uh chief. Maybe we should…."

You hold up a hand for silence.

"Why are you really following me Ignus? The journal says you could have picked anyone from that college to follow. But you would go with me and me alone. I'm not that remarkable a mage, you know."

"No…. No, you are not… but once you were….. once…"

"Once? What do you mean once?"

"Yield!"

"Huh? Wha?"

From out of the surrounding darkness, a band of mercenaries with big honking axes surrounded the party.

"You are one of the companions yes?"

"Sorry, who?"

"Rat people chief."

"Err, right. Look, whatever I might have done, I was not myself I assure you. They performed some voodoo witchcraft and I sort of spazzed out and…"

"You confessed your crime. Your reasons do not matter. You killed many of our brothers and sisters that night. And for that you will feel justice's flames."

"Flamesssssssssssss…. Flamessssssssssssssss?"

"Oh boy."

"Yes flames….. sir. You are not known to us and may therefore be spared if you…"

"Oh, you don't know him, do you? Yeah, you're Vhailor's followers all right. All brawn and no brain."

"Morte…"

"What do you mean skull? And how are you able to stay aloft?"

"Mercykiller poses important query Morte. How are you able to maintain a height of 1.8 m above ground?"

"Never mind that! You should be more worried about this burning freak here, and the injustices he's done!"

"Morte…"

"Injusssssstices? I perform worksssssssssss of art….."

"What injustices?" The man in charge walks closer. Underneath his horned helmet, you see his eyes narrowing.

"Oh, nothing much. Ever heard of Winterhold? The terrible inferno?"

"Terrible? No… Beautiful… a tapessssssssstry of desssssssstruction….."

"Hey boss." One of the mercykillers behind the man leans in. "I think I've seen that berk before. It was this bar in Winterhold."

"Oh, not just any bar, my friends. The Smoldering Corpse Bar! Prison of the great pyro Ignus!"

"Ignus! The mad mage of Winterhold!?"

"Mad… Mad….. I am the only sssssane mage in that pitiful town of inssssssectsssssssss! I tried to introduce them the teachingssssssssssss of Hammerfell, and they rejected it out of fear and weaknessssssssss! They were all weak… like thisssssss one…."

You see him staring at you.

"A member of the cowardly companions, and the destroyer of Winterhold in one spot. Oh Vhailor! If you could only live to see today!"

"Observation: Nordom recommends not to forget him = Dark Brotherhood assassin."

"Dark Brotherhood Assassin? Justice will sleep well tonight!"

"Welp, glad you've got it all sorted out. I'm just gonna float on outta here. Good luck guys!"

"Wait skull! You are traveling with these criminals, and this…. Cube with crossbows."

"Correction. Fearsome cubed warrior!"

"Whatever! You will be judged by the executioners! All of you! No man hides from the manhunters!"

"Uh, boss. I don't think that's the right motto."

"Enough! I will no longer be denied! All of you burnnnnnnnnnnn!"

"Oh boy. Morte! Nordom! Get down!"

For once they do not offer a stupid response and obey. You all lower your heads down in time to avoid the heat wave that sweeps out. You hold your hands over your ears to block out the screams. It feels like you are there for hours, when in truth it is but a few moments.

When the three of you finally look up, you see the perpetrator of the surrounding carnage and death staring at you with a blank expression.

"Pitiful," is all he hisses quietly. The flames dance in his eyes.

…...

"Chief. Bad news. Pussies."

"Confirmation: Strange outfits suggest entities are Stormcloaks."

"They're both cube. Stormcloaks are pussies who want to prove themselves heroes. And they've convinced themselves the way to do so is by devoting their lives to an even bigger pussy who shouts nonsense and expects everyone to die for him."

I guess that's kind of like me, you think to yourself.

Despite your worry over last night's event, you hold up a hand to Ignus signaling him to wait. He surprisingly listens.

"Nordom. You say that's the tomb of Ustengrav?"

"Affirmative Director. Nordom is 43% certain that structure surrounded by Stormcloak forces is the residence of the horn of Jurgen Windcaller."

"43%? That's not good enough, you idiot! Thought you were supposed to be smart!"

"Morte…"

"Why are you following if you can't help us? At least flammable there can set someone alight!"

"Yesssss…"

You look out to the Stormcloaks. It's a larger group than you're used to dealing with. Actually you probably wouldn't know that.

"We need to get in there. Any ideas?"

"Why not just set your buddy lose on them? It seems to work every time."

"Maybe I'm tired of all the bloodshed. Maybe I want a different tactic."

"How can you be tired of it? You don't even remember yesterday!

"Well, I'm sure I'd be tired of it if I could remember! Look, I…"

"Hey! Whaddaya got there?"

"It's a beast! A damn Draugr!"

You look out from your hiding spot again to see one of the soldiers dragging a struggling corpse… wait do corpses struggle?

"Pppppppppppppllllllllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeessssssssssss nnnnnnnnnnnnnooooooooooooooo."

That speech immediately strikes familiar.

"Hey chief! I think it's that Stale Mary Chick!"

"Who?"

"Hahahahahaha! Dead! Tinder! Burnnnnnnn!"

"No! Wait stop! Chief, stop him!"

"What do you think I've been trying to do?"

The soldiers bravely try to fight back with heroic cries of for Skyrim, and Ulfric, etc. But you already know how it's going to end. The mad dog you let off the leash happily burns his way through the cavalry like skipping through a field of poppies. The corpse manages to evade the destruction and runs into the tomb.

"Quick, chief! After her! She's one of the few sane people we've met! If you ignore the speech."

You obey and rush forward towards the structure, trying to stop the madman.

"Ignus! Ignus wait! She's not flammable!"

Ignus as usual ignores you. Until….

"Ignus! Burning house! Burning house! Think of a burning house!"

That catches his attention and sends him into jitters. The corpse notices he's stopped his tirade and turns to face you, her stitched face turning up in excitement.

"Ffffffffrrrrrrrruuuuunnnnnnnnnn."

"Stale Mary right? Nice to properly meet you."

"Ffffffffffuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrgggggggoooooooo ggggggeeeeeeeennnnn."

"You know it madam! He got stuck at some crazy college for a week!"

"Ppppppppppeeeeeeeeetttttttttteeeeeeeeeddddddddddd sssssssskkkkkkkkkuuuuuuuuullllll."

"Pet skull?"

"I think she means perverted skull."

"Me perverted?"

"Nnnnnnnnuuuuuuuu ffffffffeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrnnnnnnnnsssss (New friends)."

"Them, friends?" Morte laughs. "One's a loon he woke up to find a magic eye. The other's a member of some band of loony assassins!"

"Correction: The Dark brotherhood."

Mary doesn't appear to hear anyone. Instead focused on the burning man.

"Yyyyyyyyy tttttttttttyyyyyyyy bbbbbbbbrrrrrrnnnnnnn mmmmmmmmm?" (Why try to burn me?)

"Ignussssssssss knowssssssssss you…. You attacked before…. Ignussssssssss wassssssss jusssssssst free of the prissssssson of magesssssssss when you came at night….."

"Wait what? When was this?"

"Nnnnnnnuuuuuuuttttttttttt ttttttaaaaaaccccccccckkkkk. Heeeeepppppp. Yyyyyyuuuuuu ttttttaaaaaaacccccckkkk" (Not attack. Help. You attack)

"You are dead…. The dead burnnnnnnnnnnn….. it isssssss the way of thingsssssss."

"Hold on. She approached us, and you tried to set her on fire?"

"Ssssssstrange sssssscared woman approachessssss….. would you not attack….. masssster?" He adds that last part sarcastically.

"He's got a point chief. If I saw you approaching and didn't know you, I might shout at you."

"Well this is different. Don't attack her all right Ignus? Just burn the other dead within, ok?"

"Grrr…. Ssso be it… masssster…." He again says that sarcastically, while you move to lay your hand on the dead woman's shoulder. She recoils from your touch however.

"Fffffuuurggguuuuuuttttt mmmm?" (Forget me?)

You nod sadly. "I have unfortunately Mary. But from the sound of things, you've helped me in the past. I promise to defend you while we're in there."

"May Nordom use crossbows in defense of feminine corpse and pursuit of horn?"

"Hhhhuuuuuuunnn?" (Horn?)

"Yes. Something called the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. I need to find it."

"All because some old farts on top of a mountain ordered him. I have all this trouble getting him to do anything I say, but these geezers just snap their fingers and he licks their-"

"Enough….. If we musssst find thissss flammable object, then let ussss proceed ssssssso we might burn it quicker…."

"Again, Ignus. We're not going to burn the horn. Don't worry, I'll find you plenty of other things to burn in there."

"Promisssse?"

"Yes. I promise."

He laughs silently. "You have ssssssssaid that before…"

True to your word though, you do find things to burn… in the form of shambling corpses hungry for your flesh. Though it is challenging to get Ignus to show restraint.

They attacked first. So, it's justified.

That's what you tell yourself as you watch Ignus frolic about, merrily setting everything on fire.

Stale Mary is much less happy.

"Wwwuuuuurr ttteeeyyy? Ssssooonnn ddddeeeddd?" (Where they? Sane dead?)

You and Morte can only give her a saddened glance. None of the dead you encounter show the least interest in facilitating communications.

The dead aren't all you find though.

"Director. Crossbows have uncovered papers appearing to relate to occupant of this tomb."

"Ccccrruuuubbbbooossss?" (Crossbows?)

"Just ignore him. Come on chief before flameo loses control again."

"Be right over Nordom. Morte, keep an eye on Ignus?"

"Excuse me?"

Nordom is holding up parchment with strange writing. But with a quick glance over it, you think you understand it after a few moments.

"It appears to be a text by Windcaller himself. Detailing some kind of battle."

"Bbbbuuutttllleee wwwwiiiii Fffeeennndddsss." (Battle with fiends)

"Fiends? What do you mean?"

"Come on chief. Don't you even know what this guy is famous for? Why those old cranks want his stuff?"

"Answer: Windcaller = Warrior in war of Succession. War waged in period known as First era to push Baatezu rule out of plane."

"Baatezu. This is the name of the fiends?"

"One side of them. What did you forg- oh right."

"Confirmation: Baatezu = inhabitants of lawful evil planes. AKA Baator. Seek to spread lawful evil philosophy to remaining planes of existence."

"And that included this plane?"

Answer: Maintained a sizeable presence on this plane. Until war of Succession. Following death of High King Borgas, last living heir of-"

"Blah blah blah. Bottom line chief, the war kicked the Baatezu division out of their comfortable little home here on this plane. He helped do it but lost his whole army. Somehow got the idea to start the way of the voice and eventually boom…. Greygizzards!"

"Hhhhuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhuuuuu."

"Was that a laugh? Nice one dead girl! Stick with me and you'll do that a lot more often!"

You ignore the flirting and focus on the passage before you.

_We drove out the fiends from the foot of the mountain. We took out thousands. We lost thousands too. My wife died in front of me. Torn apart by a horde of lemures. We buried her near the base. That and many other deaths are the price of our crusade. So many lost to the hordes of that vile Tek'elach. The mountain's eruption certainly aided. Without that convenient prediction, we might not have become a free nation again. But the cost…. Can we ever recover from that?_

"Hey chief! Flame boy is getting antsy again. Think you could keep him on a leash again?"

"Huh? Oh sure. Come on team. Let's go cave spelunking."

"Ffffuuuu dddeedd iiikkkk mmmmm." (For dead like me)

…

You fight, or rather Ignus fights and you follow, through another horde of undead whose mindless pursuit to your death ends up being a march to their second against the burning man's merciless assault.

"One good thing about this crazy bastard on the team: We barely have to fight at all anymore. He does it for us."

"Why Morte, are you taking a fancy to someone with a penis?"

"Excuse me?! The only thing with a penis I can tolerate is you. And that's hardly."

There's an awkward silence as you all try to process that.

"Let's just… forget I…"

"Attention Morte. Explain your attention to the Director's genitals. Have you any prior experience with-"

"I said forget it!"

"Pppppuuurrdddyyyy." (Pretty)

You look in Mary's direction to see a huge cavern in front of you with multiple doors and passages leading all around and a grand waterfall at the base. Down far below you can make out a wall with some kind of strange language on it, and Ignus going all juggernaut on the draugr.

"Well at least he's enjoying himself. Come on chief, let's go find that horn. Maybe we'll even lose him, who knows?"

"You go on ahead Morte. Something tells me I should check out that wall down there."

"And pass up this chance to ditch hot head? Chief, come on! We'll never get a chance like this again!"

"Aaaaggggeeeee. Llllleeesss gggooooo." (Agree. Let's go.)

"I doubt he's going to tire anytime soon. And if we try to ditch him, he really might try to kill us this time."

"I really don't get you sometimes chief. It's like you want to die, just so you don't have to remember each day."

"Just start looking down these different paths and see if you can find one that leads in the right direction. I'll catch up."

"Director. Nordom crossbows would like to follow and observe human interaction."

"These two, human?" Morte snickers.

"I think you'd be better served by following them, actually. Another hand or two to search."

"Ah come on! Give me some alone time with this corpse here!"

"That's exactly why you should follow them Nordom. Have fun!"

"Hmph! Well come on rotting cheeks! I'll show you a good time. Even with Dingus here following."

"Analysis: Dingus is not proper term for-"

"Zip it!"

You descend the steps, avoiding the charred draugr and secretly wishing you could ditch Ignus.

But you can't. To your knowledge, you are the only thing keeping Ignus on an admittedly short leash. Without you, there's no telling what he might do. Well, maybe some telling.

"So, Iggy? How's it chilling?"

"He gives you a frightful stare.

"Uh, what I mean to say is…. How are the flames?"

"Excited… Biding their time….. Waiting for the day they ssssshall be unleassshed on the planes…. The day you ssssspoke of….."

You sigh. "I did this to you. That's what you're saying isn't it? That I made you this way?"

He laughs darkly. "How can you not remember? Isssss it not enough to take everything from me….. but you will not even take pride in your work?"

"Ignus, I don't….. how could I do this? I can't even remember the last day!"

"You could once…. You never regretted anything…. Never quesssssstioned assssss you do now…. What happened….. what happened to my massssssster?"

"Ignus… I don't know… Truthfully…. I just don't believe… I mean how could I turn a man into… you?"

"You can…" He leans in close, watching you closely, then seeming disappointed pulls back. "You could…. I…. do not know you anymore…"

He slinks off, not so much with anger, but quiet resignation. You think better than to follow and instead examine the wall in front of you. There is a word. FEIM. The word and its knowledge flow into you.

As you recover from the shock of the word, you see another piece of parchment on the ground before you.

_They thought it impossible. Impossible to repel the fiends. And for a time, it was. But with the Thu'um, that all changed. Suddenly the impossible became possible. Possible to shape our own destiny. Our own nature. To think that for so long such things have been denied to us. And all because the Daedra say so. The Daedra! What right have they to such power, other than that of birth? What is the superior being? One who is born with the superior nature? Or one who earns it? It allowed us to change our nature as slaves and change the nature of our oppressors to frightened beasts fleeing their destruction. And it took testing the limits of what we thought possible. And we owe it all to her. Who would have thought such an ugly hag could be such a force for good?_

You smirk. Who would have thought such an ugly thing like you could be a force for good?

…

"Nordom! Hey Nordom! Wait up!"

"Affirmative director. Nordom simply wanted to observe the ruins of this tomb for further study on the crossbow's behalf."

"Of course, you do. Hey have you seen Morte and Mary?"

"Null director. They and Ignus have gone their separate ways."

"One to burn, the other to put the moves on a zombie. How you holding up, bud? I imagine it's been a weird couple of weeks since we pulled you out of that other tomb, huh?"

"Nordom…. Is unsure how to respond."

"Why not? It's not a hard question? How are you doing?"

"Nordom does not understand. Requires a list of acceptable answers to respond."

"You can respond however you wish Nordom. You don't need me to give you an answer. Otherwise it wouldn't be your answer."

"The answer is not meant to be Nordom's. Nordom exists to serve the director and his wishes."

You pause. "How is that? How is that your entire purpose?"

"I- Nordom knows no other. What more can he do?"

"You can do anything you want. Hell, if you really want to you could take off right now. I won't stop you."

Nordom stops for a moment, pausing to take that in.

"Nothing to….. Error, error. Reanalyzing current predicament. Unable to respond. Unable to respond. Unable to-"

"All right. Forget I asked. Sheesh. Look what's with these doors here?"

"Reanalyzing. Doors are activated by three stones on the ground in front of us. There are not enough of us in the immediate area."

"Well maybe the two of us can figure it out. I mean with your brains and my…. Forgetful brain, how hard can it be?"

30 minutes later

"Motherfucking balls from hell! What the hell were these assholes thinking, when they made this place!?"

"Error. Unable to provide unsatisfactory answer due to faulty knowledge."

"I think you mean unable to provide a satisfactory answer, right?"

"Affirmative director. Nordom will reexamine steps again. In meantime, may director provide cover from attacking draugrs?"

"Beg your pardon?" Your question is answered however by the guttural screams of the dead from behind.

5 minutes later

"Anything? I'm kind of getting tired out."

"Negative. All three steps may be activated. But Nordom has concluded there is not enough time to get through the third gate before it closes. Only the wind is fast enough."

"The wind?" For some reason that word rings familiar. You pull up your journal again for any recollection.

"Nordom. Stand aside. I've got this."

You run over the three tablets and as soon as the gates open, you let out one word. "WULD."

Like the wind, you fly through before the doors close. Nordom however is not able to make it and remains on the other side.

"Query director: Did you use a Thu'um?"

"Yeah that's right Nord. Sorry I forgot to bring you to."

"Null apologies director. Nordom will stay here and search for another way around. God luck."

"It's actually good- Ah forget it. Close enough."

You turn and make your way down the passage away from the sounds of Nordom fighting off the dead. You hope the little guy survives. He at least you have some hope for. Unlike Ignus…

Your thoughts are interrupted when you come across another piece of parchment. More writing by Windcaller.

"Who leaves stuff like this lying around? Is it like breadcumbs to let me know I'm on the right track? Did he just get mad and scatter it all over in a drunken rage before he died?"

_I was a fool. To think I could control it. Control the world. Even with the power of the Thu'um. But no. Only now do I see how wrong I was. I thought myself a hero. I thought if we had conquered the Baatezu, we could conquer anything. Even death! Even immortality! But I am no master of the planes. They are master of me. In my arrogance…. My desire to bring fortitude to the planes… I have only brought our destruction. So stupid! So stupid! To listen to my inner ego. To listen to that hag!_

" _You look troubled dearie. Have I caught you at a bad time?"_

" _You! How? How could you do this? To me? To us?"_

" _Do what? What exactly did I do? Other than help you find your calling dearie? Everything I've done, I've done for you." Her smile said otherwise._

" _Don't lie to me hag! You knew this would happen, didn't you? You led me to do it! This is your doing!"_

" _You think so do you dearie? Is that your takeaway from all this? Typical man. Never learning from your mistakes. Always blaming everyone else. I helped you overcome the naughty fiends and their games, did I not? And when you sought the power to rebuild your lives, I obliged and helped you find a way. I warned you power comes with consequences."_

" _Not this. You never said…. Never said…"_

" _What? That you might slip up and doom an entire plane? Mayhaps I left out that bit yes. But I told you this much dearie. Play with fire, and you may get burned."_

_I stared shocked, transfixed at her glowing eyes and her smile, barred with fangs. To think I once saw beauty beneath the skin. To think I placed all our hopes in such a monster._

_And as I stared upon the monster I had trusted with our future, a roar shook the land and sky, and an even greater monster appeared on the horizon. No subtle manipulation. No false promises tempered with sweet words. Only all encompassing-hunger and lust for blood._

" _Time for your final test, dearie. Time to answer a riddle, I myself do not know the answer to. Can a man change his fate? His very nature. In the face of such impossible odds? Against such unrelenting power? Against the devourer of worlds?"_

You might not be up against whatever a devourer of worlds is. But the rest of the riddle seems directed at you just as much as Windcaller.

…

"Wwwwwuuuurrr ttteeeeeeyyy? Yyyyyy nnnnoooooo hhhhhuuuuurrrrrrrr?" (Where they? Why not here?)

"Ah, don't let that bother you dead cheeks! You're never going to meet someone with more spirit than me! So whaddaya say we-"

"Talk a minute Morte?"

"That's right. Hey wait! I meant with Mary! Not with you, you hideous corpse!"

Mary looks at him with annoyance. Morte realizes too late and looks away embarrassed.

"Uh, anyway. How you doing chief? See you lost the nutty duo. Finally decided to see things my way? Took you long enough."

"Ignus didn't want to talk and Nordom got stranded behind a door, or something. It wasn't really about choice."

"Well whatever it is about chief, enjoy it while it lasts. Once they come back, it's back to treading lightly and hopefully not getting burned."

Mary shudders at that. "Ffffuuuuuurrrrr uuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnnssssssss sssssssssskkkkkkkkkkkkuuuuuuuuuuuuulllllllll mmmmmmmuuuuuuuuuukkkkkkkkksssssss sssssssssseeeeennnnnnnnnsssssssss." (For once skull makes sense)

"For once? Whaddaya mean once? I'm the only guy on this team that makes any sense whatsoever! I'm the sanest guy in the planes! I'm so sane, I…. uh….. I'm….. inane….."

"Nice rhyme bone box. You should be a bard. You'll knock the devas off their feet. Might even get one or two of them to-"

"Ok, ok. Rub it in! At least I have a chance, dead man!"

"Aaaaaalllllll uuuuuuusssssssss dddddddeeeeeeddddddd." (All us dead)

"I know right! Isn't it great? Life is so overrated!"

"Death isn't much better," you mutter looking ahead. "So, what's with this room here?"

"Well uh…"

"Yesssssssssss! Flamesssssssssss!"

Ignus pops out of nowhere up ahead, pressing his foot down on the many tiles littering the room. As he does, a flame comes from the center of each, making him giggle and give a little twirl.

"So apparently those tiles shoot fire. I can simply float across, but Mary here isn't so lucky."

"Not all the tiles."

"…. Beg your pardon?"

"Look at the ones he's touching." You point to the coloration of the tiles your psycho follower is dancing upon. They are all darker in tone, while he purposefully ignores the lighter tiles.

"Oh. Guess I should have seen that."

"I don't blame you. All you've got is a head and a mouth. Hard to think with no nerves."

"Dick."

"Must be hard without that too."

He grumbles as you and Mary step upon the light-colored tones, tiptoeing to avoid the mad torch.

"Hey Ignus?"

"Yesssssss?"

You look at him dancing about with glee on the tiles, igniting himself.

"Have fun."

You turn away and find yet another piece of parchment on the ground.

"Reading? Really chief? You've got to find another hobby. Try sex."

_Our best efforts have failed. All our best warriors have as well. No matter what we throw, this beast will not fall. It regenerates all our mightiest magic. And it exists only to eat. Eat and destroy. All the hope I mustered during the war and in our times of peace is gone, replaced only with fear and despair. The price for our arrogance. To think we had control over our destiny. I had it wrong. All wrong. And we've paid the price._

…

"So, this is it."

You hold the horn in your hand. It seems rather unimpressive. Especially considering what you had to fight through to get it.

You blow through one end to get reaction, but nothing happens.

"Bummer huh chief? All this way for some stinking non-magical horn? It could at the very least summon singing sirens, right?"

"I just hope it has some special use. Maybe it can amplify the shout and give me a chance against this Alduin dragon."

"I told you chief. If the Greybeards want it, it's probably just for a drinking game."

Mary laughs again but her face voices sadness. You place a hand on her shoulder and pull her close.

"I'm like you you know. Searching for myself. For my place in the world."

"Answer: Current location = Tomb of Ustengrav. Plane: Tamriel."

"That's not what he meant crossbows."

"Morte. Crossbows would like you to treat them with more respect."

"Massssssssssster… The flamesssssssssss from the tilesssssssss….. They are out….. No more… No more."

"Mama mia. Why I gotta travel with these weirdos? Why I can't I travel with someone normal like Gerdur? Gerdur….."

Mary looks at each of them with some amusement.

"Nnnnnnnnnnuuuuuuuuutttttttt oooooooonnnnnnnnniiiiiiii uuuuuuuunnnnnnnnn." (Not only one)

You smirk as you follow her gaze at each of your companions. "Yeah maybe not."

The walk outside is silent. Everyone looking at everything but each other. You twirl the horn in one hand, and in the other, the parchment of the past. You still aren't sure what the Greybeards hope for you to take away from this.

"Dovahkiin!"

You look up as you exit to see a dragon circling the sky above you. You all rush back in just as a wave of fire hit the entrance.

"Nordom stay in here and guard Mary. Morte distract it. Ignus knock it down."

"Aw. I want Nordom's job. Why does this handsome devil gotta put himself in harm's way?"

Despite this complaint, Morte say one of his typically vulgar insults while Ignus lets loose a volley of fireballs.

"Ok, let's see if this horn was worth a week with Hamrys." You shout a Thu'um through the horn.

It produces a regular fire breath. Nothing more. Except of course that the beast now notices you.

"Oh, come on!"

"Some dova you are, scarred man! Trying to control the elements themselves! Did you not learn Jurgen's lesson?"

"Good thing I didn't finish reading then. FEIM!"

Your hands suddenly seem to fade just as the flames hit you. The beast roars in anger.

You then shout a breath of ice which sings one of his wings and again makes him curse.

"You are tougher than Alduin believed. How can you have such mastery with less than a year's practice?"

"He hasssssssss had much more than that pretender…. Much more….. now burnnnnnnnn!"

One of the flames gets him again and he twirls around in the sky before falling.

You rush forward to get him before he can get up again. To your surprise though, Stale Mary gets there before you and stabs him in the eye.

The creature roars as you and the rest of the team gang up on dragon, poking and prodding until its flesh begins to fade away and the knowledge of its eldritch mind flows into you.

"Wow. That was a real… rush."

"You're telling me chief. I'd still rather spend some at the Brothel of Slating Intellectual Lusts."

"Why? They don't have sex."

"They want to slate their lusts don't they? At some point it's gotta get physical."

"Ttttttttttrrrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiddddddddddd. Ddddddddddduuuuuuussss nnnnnnnuuuuuutttttt wwwwwwwooookkkkkkkk." (Tried. Does not work)

"You tried with one of them?" She smiles mischievously then turns around to walk back towards the tomb.

"Wait. Where you going?"

"Nnnnnnnnuuuuuuuuuudddddddd ttttttuuuummmmmmm tttttt mmmmmmeeeeeeeeeeeessssssssssssseeeeeeeeeeffffffffffff." (Need time to myself)

You sigh. "So once again we part ways until I lose my memory and help you search through some tomb?"

She nods with a sad smile. "Ggggggggguuuuuuuuuuddddddd lllllllluuuuuuuukkkkkkk." (Good luck). She then walks away.

"Good riddance….. Come… let uuuuuuuussss walk the path of flamesssssssssss…."

"Wait Ignus! We need to talk about-"

"About what?" He looks at you annoyed.

"About me being your master and all that, right?"

"No…. I think not… Not until you grow a ssssssssspine…"

"Ignus, come on! I killed a dragon! Doesn't that count as spine?"

"Ah give it a rest, chief. Let's just get back to that crazy college and drop off that disembodied eye….. And then on to High Hrothgar. *Shudder*."

"Attention director. Nordom found this parchment while fending off the draugr. The crossbows think you would have interest."

_It finally ended. But not by our work. Not by our strength. The beast became satiated after about a week. It finally disappeared, but not before destroying everything we had built. All our progress. All our struggle against the fiends. All a waste._

" _What's wrong my precious man? Why ruin your triumphant day with frowny faces? It doesn't suit you."_

" _You! How dare you show your face around here again! Haven't you done enough?"_

" _Fear not dearie, I'll soon be off. But before I go, I have to know if you have an answer to my question."_

" _What question the thing about man and Nature? Well fine, I do know. The answer is arrogance. Arrogance can change the nature of a man. The arrogance to think he can better himself. Better the world. And that arrogance has cost us everything. But that's how you planned it. Isn't it, hag?"_

_She gave an innocent shrug. "I planned nothing my dear man. Only that it prove a good time. And my dear man. You have proven that."_

" _That's it. All this for fun?"_

" _Who said fun? A good time means something different to everyone. Maybe to me, it just means… Well maybe a little fun. But it's fun you brought it on yourself."_

" _With your help."_

" _I showed you the doors precious man. You simply choose which one to walk through."_

_I looked at her long and hard. Her smile, her hideousness. How could I have not seen it._

" _So, if there's nothing else…."_

" _So eager to get rid of me already? Typical ungrateful man. Ah well. I suppose you have a lot of cleaning up to do. Best of luck precious man. Feel free to talk anytime."_

_As she faded from this world, I thought of everything I had lost to the power she had shown me. It had done good against the fiends, but then had summoned an even greater threat into our midst._

" _This…. Was punishment. Punishment for my arrogance. They sent the hag to change our nature. That's it. It's punishment for the Thu'um it's misuse. My misuse. My failure."_

_And from that day, I swore I would never again abuse the Thu'um for the safety of man, or any other selfish desire. The purpose of the Thu'um is and forever shall be the worship and glory of the gods. This shall forever be the Way of the Voice. And hence shall it be this way forever more._

You stare at that last bit with a raised eyebrow and conflicted thoughts.

"If that's the philosophy of the Greybeards, how do they plan on me handling Alduin?"

 


	17. Dawnstar

"Plane: Tamriel. Location: Dawnstar."

"Oh joy! Another repugnant town that'll catch us up in their stupid drama! Please, let's not stop chief. Let's just blow past and get this eye to those freaks at the college!"

"Well, I guess we could do it if we really wanted. The rest of you ok with that?"

"Ignusssssssss caresssssssss not….asssssss long assssssss there are thingssssssssss to burnnnnnnnnnn…."

"Figures. Nordom?"

"Nordom null decision. Nordom = director's prerogative. Crossbows on the other hand-"

"Ok, so we're leaving! Great pick Nordom! For once I agree."

"Help! Help!"

"Observation: Nordom senses distress within city perimeters. Does this change Director's objective?"

"No! No, it does not right chief? Chief?"

"Uh, well….."

"Help! Please! Someone!"

"Hey you! Freaks! Quit your sorcery, now!"

You turn to see angry townsfolk making their way towards you.

"Chief, let's just beat it! No more side adventures or fillers! Let's just get back to the plot!"

"No! No leaving you…. Skull…. Modron…. Corpses…. Wait. What the hell are you exactly?"

"We uh… I can't really say. I guess we're like a… quartet?"

"Yeah, a quarter of the damned. Trust me berks, you do not want us in your town."

"That's for us to decide. Now come with us. Run away under penalty of death."

"Analysis: Non-combatants are attempting to stop us. Prospect of success: slight."

"Yessssssssss…. Pleassssssssse try…"

"Now now. Is this any way to treat tired travelers?"

The townsfolk turn around in fear. Fear which quickly turns to reverence and awe at the sight of the beautiful man who appears to glow. His mere presence and his peaceful grin seem to remove all the tension from the air. Well, not everyone.

"Hey who's this geezer? And why's he hogging all the action?" Morte looks annoyed at the women who seem to fawn over this stranger.

"Analysis: Trace of foreign entity within humanoid approaching. Crossbows suggest use of eels to intake more information."

"Eels? Whatever could this remarkable machine mean?" The man smiles as he approaches.

"I think he means ears. And this "machine" is what we call a modron."

"Analysis: Humanoid displays traits uncommon to the surrounding plane. Unusual aura suggests inhabitant of some higher plane."

"How dare you address Silus Vesuius with such disrespect? You should be on your knees blessing him for the privilege to even stare upon him!"

"Now now, my friends. This creature clearly meant no disrespect. He is merely responding to the world the only way he knows how. Through logic."

"Gggggaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh! No more talk….. burnnnnnnnnnnnn."

The man walks forward to examine the burning man with surprisingly calm fascination.

"Such a remarkable creature. I believe I've heard of one with your condition. You came from Winterhold, yes?"

Ignus merely growls while Silus turns to address you. His eyes widen at your uncleanliness. But before he responds, Morte does.

"Those are empire robes right? What are you doing here up North?"

"Doing work for the empire of course. Skyrim is a land of violence and war. The empire wants to introduce the concept of law to this part of the Tamriel plane. It has been somewhat difficult with the misunderstanding by certain segments of the population."

"Is that another word for Stormcloaks?" Morte gives an annoyed look.

"That is the word they use to describe themselves, yes." Silus frowns slightly. "I hope we can change their minds. Mortal lives are short enough without war to end it."

"Ha! Good luck telling Ulfric Stormdick to change his mind!"

"Shut your mouth skull! You're talking about the true king!"

"A believer in the traitors! Grab her!"

"Now, now. This is a child of the planes. No less than any of you. Be at peace."

His words are so soothing, a calm settles over the angry crowd and they release the frightened woman.

"That's not a good sign chief. We should go now before this guy works his mojo on us and makes us his sex slaves or something!"

"Analysis: Probability of said scenario = 0%. Reanalyzing. Scenario = desired scenario by Morte?"

"What!? Say that again you moronic cube!"

"Clearly an aggravated group you have with you scarred man. Perhaps you would like to spend some time here in Dawnstar? I think it might do you some good. Perhaps ease the tension between you?"

You and Morte give each other a look.

"I…. don't think that's a good idea… sir. I mean from the sound of things, you've got some problems here in your fair city. I doubt seeing us here would ease anyone's tension."

The strange man simply places his hand on your shoulders and leads you into town. You should probably resist, but for some reason, his smile compels you.

"I insist. Our town has more to offer than you would first assume. In fact. Why don't you come to my… museum? You will find much to your liking I believe. Volumes of history and knowledge. Very much worth it indeed I believe!"

"Bleh? Really? A history lesson? No thank you, berk. I've had quite enough of history for one afterlife. Now if you have a museum about the history of women's fashion, I might be more open!"

You place your hand over your face. "Morte."

"Opinion: Nordom = objective? Null. Nordom = request to visit museum and town and gather data about history and current predicament inflicting area."

"Yessssssssss….. to the mussssssssssseum.,,,,,,,,,, to the town…. Paper…. Wood….. plenty to burnnnnnnnnnnnnn…"

…

"It's a curse! It must be! I've got to get out of this town!"

"Irgnir, get a hold of yourself. They're just dreams. Please tell her Erandur."

"Listen to your friend. They are just dreams, my dear. I assure you that it is quite normal."

"You think the same dream repeatedly is normal? It's evil I tell you!"

"I can give you a better dream, if you like, me lady."

"Who- Aaaggghhh! A floating head!"

"Hey! That's skull to- Ahem. I mean. Tell me about this dream, Irgnir was it? Am I in it?"

"What sort of nonsense is this? What is this abomination doing here? Out! Out I say!"

"Dissssssssstresssssssss…. Disssssssssstressssssssssss endsssssssssss in flamessssssssssssss…"

"Dear lord! More undead! What ill omen is this?"

"Now, please everyone calm down," the man Erandur raises his hands. "Let's all-"

"It's happening! It's happening I tell you! I knew it would come to this! I knew it!"

"Irgnir. Everyone. Stop."

Everyone does stop at the sound of Silus' soothing voice.

"This is exactly why the empire came to this far off land. It needs an end to the futility of war. It needs law and stability."

"But," Irgnir's friend responds. "Without war and conflict, our souls can never go to Sovngarde."

"No, but you can find your way to somewhere even greater. One of the upper planes, perhaps. Why even maybe Bytopia itself!"

The man Erandur gives a strange look at the holy man.

"I was not aware the Thalmor had much interest in the upper planes, Silus. Given the nature of their actions."

"It is true they originally hail from the plane of limbo. But I would like to believe their alignments could shift more to resemble my own."

"Mama mia man. Have you learned nothing from your time here? Nobody changes their mind for nothing."

"I don't want you to change minds. I just want you to fix my dreams!"

"Calm now Irgnir. Calm now." Erandur places his arm around her shoulder trying to calm her down.

"This must be quite an experience for you Erandur," Silus smiles. "Being a sensate and all."

"You a sensate?" Morte groans. "Why are all the sensates stingy men? Why can't they be more like that Nenny girl at Winterhold?"

"Who?" You ask.

"Nenny? The sensate? Mage in pink? Talked about you constantly? Wanted to keep touching you? Oh, that's right. You can't remember anything."

"I will admit, it has been a bit more than I would have expected with all these nightmares." Erandur looks at you. "And now with these newcomers…."

You glare back. "You know it's not nice to talk about people behind their back. But talking about them to their face? That's just dumb."

Silus gives his typical smile that is at this point starting to annoy you. "Hot tempers all around I see. This is when I step in and lead you somewhere less constrained by politics and testosterone. Come. Let me fuel your intellectual curiosity." He nods about at the others in the room. "Best of luck Erandur." Erandur does not smile back.

"Well if we're here, we might as well get some rest. Pay the hotel lady chief. I'm tired of the real world."

"Yeah sure." You scrounge through your sack and to your dismay pull out…. "Err."

"Really chief? That's all you've got? We haven't passed any stores since Morthal. How could you lose so much?"

"Analysis: Nordom uses copper shaped….. coppers to address crossbow's neediness."

"Neediness?" Morte sounds astonished. "What the hell do crossbows need anything but arrows for, you idiot polygon! We need that for, you know, survival and all that shit!"

One of the women approaches concerned. "Now now, err…. Morte? I'm sure the cute little…polygon was it? I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it."

"Well then he probably shouldn't have done it, hmm? Seriously who programmed this guy? I bet he exists just to make me suffer doesn't he? I know it!"

"Morte…"

"No! He has to be. He must! I mean it's right after this moron joined up that Gerdur broke up with me! He must have orchestrated that! He must!"

Nordom meanwhile continues staring at his crossbows, not appearing to hear anything

"You know that was like three weeks after you met right?"

"I don't care! He's evil! The incarnation of destruction! Vecna himself!"

"Allow me." Silus steps in front with a bag of coins.

"Courtesy of the empire. A room for these….. fine gentlemen."

The inn owner looks at your team shocked. "Including the berk on fire?"

"Yes, even him. I'll cover any damage he causes."

"Hope your wallet is full then," you mutter looking at Ignus' grin.

"Great. Just let me in. And could you pour me some ale? I don't have hands, so it'd be best if you could pour for me."

The inn owner looks at Silus incredulously. He simply nods.

"Now then. As I said beforehand. I would like to show you my museum Mr. err…"

You shrug. "Call me whatever you want."

His smile turns mischevious. "So be it. Please follow me Mr. Scar."

Your eyes widen in response as Morte giggles.

"Have fun chief. But not too much fun. It's history after all. Not meant to be fun."

"Oh, it can be with the right subject. Come along Mr. Scar. Consider it repayment for your room."

You curse inwardly but resign yourself to your fate and follow him out. Ignus follows behind, but to your surprise Nordom does not.

"Coming Nordom? This sounds like the kind of thing you might like."

"Negative: Crossbows request survey of city to recharge their memory banks. Permission to survey?"

"Uh. Sure, why not? Just don't… you know…. leave town without us. I'd hate to lose you."

"Don't oversell it chief," Morte mutters.

You finally follow the strange man out of the inn, aware of everyone's eyes on you.

"So, what's your story, Mr. Vesuius?"

"I told you did I not? I am here on behalf of the empire to facilitate communications with this lawless land."

"Right, but beyond that. I mean what's your personal story? Where did you come from? What…. What are you?"

He finally frowns. "Not the kindest question I must say. Could you be more specific?"

"Aassssssimar….. child of upper planesssssssssss and mortal inssssssssssssectsssssssssss…" He makes a sound that sounds like gagging. "Desssssssssspisssssssssse flamesssssssssss."

"Now now, Ignus. We do not despise flames. Why many inhabitants of the upper planes use fire for a variety of purposes! But he is correct. I am an Aasimar. In this case, the child of a Thalmor woman and a celestial father."

"A celestial? What kind of celestial? I'm a little rusty on classification."

"Why the highest, I reckon. A member of the Deva race. Paragons of justice and virtue. "

Ignus makes another gag noise, while you soak in Silus' words.

"Strange place to find a "paragon of justice and virtue."

"On the contrary, no place better. You've seen Dawnstar's problems. Horrid nightmares have plagued the inhabitants and mortal hands alone are not capable enough to fix it."

"So you're here to fix it? How's that working out for you? Seems to be going great."

You pause to gauge his reaction. That was a bit too snarky. But if he's offended he doesn't show it.

"And here we are! Welcome to the museum of the lower planes!"

That name instantly rings familiar, so you look in your journal, section: places.

"Lower planessssssss… you… makessssss no ssssssensssssssse….."

"When even you're surprised Ignus, I'm worried. You run a museum dedicated to the lower planes? Aka the opposite of your so-called paragons of justice?"

"But of course!"

"Of course? Is that such an obvious thing? Am I missing something here?"

"What better way to defeat your enemy than to understand them? Their history? Their weaknesses?"

"Liesssssss… celesssssssstialssssssss not in war….."

Silus frowns again. "An unfortunate mistake that shall soon be corrected, I assure you. Too much is on the line for us to remain out of it any longer."

You raise an eyebrow.

"And you know this how?"

Silus instantly pales but then corrects himself and glances about. You do not miss that.

"Updated my journal."

"Pardon?"

"Err, nothing. So…. Neat stuff you've got here. Where'd you get all this?"

He smiles again, relieved to change the subject.

"Oh, I found a few bits here and there. But most of it comes from others to be honest. I haven't had the years necessary to obtain most of these. But my father on the other hand. Well he gets around."

"You mean sexually?"

He blanches. "No! Good gracious! I mean he gets around the planes!

"Still sounds like sex. But ok so he found a lot of this." You look at one piece of parchment. "Where'd he get this…. Abyssal Fury?"

"Oh that! That I got myself actually. Probably wouldn't believe me if I told you how. In any case, that's a rather beautiful spell that unleashes the fury of the abyss upon some unsuspecting soul, dooming him or her to eternal damnation as a servant of the Tanar'ri for all eternity!"

"And that's…. beautiful?"

"He seems to shrug. "It's natural."

Ignus eyes a heavy plain-looking metallic jug with a hinged stopper. Despite its common appearance, you feel reluctant to touch the thing, as if it might bite you.

"Observing my monster jug, hmm? That I also caught myself. Supposed to contain some kind of fiend. Not that I would risk it mind you."

"Good point. Ignus. Maybe don't touch it."

"Ignussssssss doessssssss not touch….. only burnnnnnnnnn….."

Silus eyes you somewhat amused. "You find such curious companions don't you Mr. Scar? You could probably open a museum of your own about the things you've seen."

"I don't know if that's a good thing, but yeah you're probably right. And these uh… these tapestries. They're from…. A fiend legion?"

"Yes. A baatezu armed forces that was caught unaware during a campaign within the abyss. The same force who once opened the gates of Oblivion itself!"

"Wait? What? Oblivion? You a dustman?"

"….No. I refer to the Oblivion Crisis."

You pause and again look through the journal to the page listed events.

"Oblivion crisis: Some entity called Mehrunes Dagon tried to force his way into this plane with the help of some hag but got stopped when some dude turned into…. The Lady of Pain?"

"Not turned into persay. He merely fused with an avatar of the lady herself and banished Dagon back to his realm. Or as he is known to a few," he leans in. "A façade."

"Façade?"

"Yes. A façade designed to hide his true origin. Asmodeus. Supreme master of the nine hells. And god of sin!"

"Great. Another name to remember. Updated my journal."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because updating my journal helps with my memory."

"But why do you have to say- Never mind. In any case. I would ask a small favor of you if you don't mind."

You frown. "I thought the favor was coming to check out this museum?"

"Well that was part of it yes. And I appreciate you taking the time when no one else will. You'd think people would appreciate a chance to learn history. Even mortals." He shrugs.

"Alas, the issue is that my museum is not complete. I have collected much about the lower planes as you can tell. But there is one item I desire above all others. One that has been lost for some time. One even my father cannot find."

"And so you think some stranger with scars is going to succeed where he failed?"

He looks you over. "No perhaps not. But you seem more capable than most. And you have a very capable mage here. So why not?"

He pulls up a sketch of a strange staff with a skull. Even though it's just a portrait, it still makes you nervous for some unspecified reason.

"This is what we call the Ruby rod of Asmodeus. A wondrous weapon of power once wielded by the devil Asmodeus himself. Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Uh….. sure. Gotta say though. If he seriously fights with parchment, I don't understand why anyone if so damn frightened of him."

"Oh, this is merely an image. The real thing was split into 3 pieces by a group dedicated to the destruction of Asmodeus. The descendants still keep these pieces. And I believe at least one is here in Skyrim."

"That's good right? I mean, that they still have these pieces? That their original owner hasn't gotten it back? Surely as a child of celestials you would approve of that, wouldn't you?"

He stares at you silently, thinking how to respond.

"Am I wrong?"

"No, not wrong. It's just that… These mortal hands alone cannot be trusted with such a powerful item."

"Sounds like they're been ok so far. It's been several centuries since and they still have the pieces right?"

"Well yes. For mortals, they are capable. But that luck cannot last forever. We have reason to believe that the Baatezu have found the wielders of the three pieces and are even now preparing to take them back for their master."

"Sure took their time to find them huh? I mean like what have they been doing all these centuries?"

"The keepers hid their tracks well. But as I said. Mortal error is inevitable sooner or later."

"And now you want me to collect it for you? Is that right?"

"Indeed, if you would be ever so kind. I imagine a man like you is ever so busy. But this is a serious matter. With the rod in the hands of its master, the planes could be at risk, and a repeat of the Oblivion crisis would be all but guaranteed."

"Let me get this straight. In return for you paying one night's rest in a town full of crazy people with terrible nightmares, you want me to scour the planes in search of three pieces of a dangerous artifact which in the wrong hands could spell the end of society?"

"Pretty much. So, you manly enough?"

You blanche. Ignus laughs.

"I'll have you know that I am plenty manly. And am at this moment in fact already carrying-"

"Carrying what? Care to elaborate Mr. Scar?"

You quickly realize the foolishness of sharing Vecna's eye with someone else and shut your mouth.

"Strange silence. You sounded like you had something to share. Ah well. Please, I know you are a busy man who probably is tired of adventures by this point."

"You're telling me," you mutter looking at Ignus.

"But this is the fate of the planes that could be at stake. Surely the thought of that should keep you up at night, yes?"

It already does you think to yourself.

"I'll keep an eye out for them, I suppose. But I am as you have stated, busy. I can't make any promises I'll get the chance to go after these things."

"I only ask that you give your best." He smiles again. "Now I see that you have a journal. That is good. I have some information we have gathered about the current owners of the pieces of the orb. Why don't I tell you what to write down and I'll let you be on your way?"

"Finally… let usssssssss burnnnnnnnnnnn…."

"Curious hobbies your friends have."

More curious than half celestials who run museums dedicated to evil?"

"Um…. Yes, I would think someone who yearns to see everything burn is indeed more strange than what I do."

"Whatever. All right that's everything you have. Now just to confirm. This is all you want, right? You didn't bring me here to somehow fix the nightmare epidemic in town too, right?"

"I assure you Mr. Scar. I see no reason you need to trouble yourself with that."

Deep in your heart, you know he's somehow going to be proven wrong.

…

Well this seems familiar. You can't remember the day to day trivialities, but you can apparently remember dreams. Or certain recurring things in dreams. Hell if you know how it works!

"My love. This seems a bit excessive, don't you think?"

You look annoyed. Doesn't the girl know better than to interrupt you during your sessions. Oh well. Fools will be fools.

"How so, Deionorra? I am giving the boy what he wants. Power."

The boy in question is lying down on the ground, burns lining his arms. From a distance, you could be forgiven for thinking he was dead. You can see his breathing however.

"Masster. Pleasse…. No more…"

"No more? No more? We're just getting started dear student. The craving you've had your whole life…. This is how you get it."

The boy looks up at Deionorra with sorrow, begging with his eyes.

"I…. I don't think he can stand my love. I do not doubt the effectiveness of your techniques. But humans have limits."

You stare at her, trying your best to hide your annoyance. Still, she has a point.

You lean down and grab at one of the burn marks on the boy's skin. You yank.

His howl fades as you wake to another nightmare. One filled with even more howls.

The mountain of skulls howls and churns before you, filling you with dread, and disgust. What you would give to not have to stand here. But you've been through far worse. You have nothing else to lose.

So forward you shuffle. Towards the horrendous mass. The cacophony of voices slows down to a murmur as all eyes turn towards you.

"WHAT IS THIS VERMIN? BEGONE LEST WE ADD YOU TO OUR CHORUS."

"I need your help. Please. I need out. I can't stand it anymore."

Laughter rings out from the terrible….thing. Amusement at your loss.

"WE HOPE YOU APPRECIATE THE IRONY OF YOU ASKING FOR HELP. WE CANNOT THINK OF ANOTHER IN RECENT TIMES WHO DESERVES YOUR FATE MORE."

"I know. I know!" You grip your head in your hands, trying to blot out the horrific imagery, both in front of you and from before. It's too much to take in. Too damn much!

"I know, but I need it to stop! I need it to. I need it to….."

"I can help!"

The entire pillar shuts up in response to one little skull pleading to you, desperation in his eyes.

"I can help. I can help. I swear. Just…. Please help."

The skulls start laughing. But there's another sound that makes your hair stand on end. The sounds of baatezu roaring in the distance. Damn it! You were sure you covered your tracks! They're onto you already!

"No time! Quick! Get me off! I can help you! Please!"

The pillar laughing amongst themselves. The shouts in the distance. The desperate skull's bloody haunted face…

Oh great. Another dream. This time you're lying down on a…. is this a chopping block? And is that an axe about to take your head off? And is that a frigging black dragon swopping down at you?

This time you really do wake up in a sweat. Though nobody appears to hear you because they're still stuck in their own nightmares.

"Pleassssssse no…. No more,,,,,,,,, I beg you….. massssssster!"

"Director: Analysis suggests that Ignus and Morte are currently experiencing subconscious imagery resulting in harmful kneejerk reactions."

"No kidding. Cube see if you can help that skull wake up. I'll take the flaming guy!"

Neither of you are very successful though. The two near dead companions continue thrashing. For the skull, there's no immediate danger to anyone else around him, but for the burning man….

"Fiery berk! Think of water! Water!"

"That's not going to cut it."

You turn to see a gray skinned man in an orange cloak looking at you worriedly

"Who the hell are you? You causing this?"

He looks surprised.

"No, of course not! I came to this town to stop the nightmares, don't you remember?"

You blank out.

"…..No. I can't even remember…. Where the hell am I?"

The man looks at the cube confused.

"Answer: Director suffers from daily bouts of amnesia. Requires recount of all previous days of life to maintain proper motor functions. Crossbows recommend use of plain journal to restore memory."

You and the grey man both look in shock at him. Then at each other. You finally respond.

"So… me thinks we should talk."

…

"So let me get this straight. A daedric lord called Vaermina is creating these dreams from some place called the Nightcaller temple. And the guy on fire and the talking skull are my friends?"

"Well…. I hesitate somewhat to call them friends. I am somewhat concerned about your choice of companions I must say. Travelling with such bizarre characters can't be good for morals. I must say."

You can't help but agree to that. Though that appears to be what you're doing right now.

"So this temple holds the key to releasing my "friends" and the rest of the town from their wonderful sleep?"

"That is the idea. Allow me to explain the history of Vaermina and the Miasma-"

"Please don't. I really don't need even more things to clutter up my memory."

"I assure you it's necessary. You need to have your mind entirely focused on the matter at hand."

"Right…. As opposed to the guy on fire thrashing around down there."

…

Morte wakes up from the nightmare. The writhing thriving skulls laughing and jeering. Or at least he thought so at the time.

Looking back, he can tell those weren't laughs. They were screaming for help in their own way. Reckon they still are, he frowns.

"Attention Morte. I have a question…"

"No more questions Nordom, ok!? I really don't need even more of a headache."

"But the question in case concerns your safety."

Morte's eyes suddenly widen and immediately take notice of the thrashing Ignus in the corner and the frightened people peeking around the corner.

"See, it's happening! I told you this would happen!"

"Oh come now, Irgnir. I'm pretty sure you said nothing about a man on fire thrashing around!"

"Query: Did subject Irgnir's dream involve Ignus burning down the hotel?

"Wait, burning down hotel?" Morte looks around alarmed and suddenly sees that some of Ignus' flames have leapt onto a nearby curtain.

"Attention Morte. I have a question. How does one stop the spread of fire?"

"How do you think moron? Water! Someone get some water! Or get the chief to cast a water spell!"

"Response: The director null present. Current location in temple upon hill."

"What? He walked off with no memory and left us here with this lunatic? Someone get up there and bring him back!"

"Noooooooooooo! No more! No more!"

Everyone turns to Ignus who has begun thrashing about even more. He grips his head with his hands, screaming in pain.

"By the Lady! He's losing control! Quick skull! Calm him down!"

"Calm him down!?" Morte spits out incredulously. "CALM HIM DOWN!? Only the chief can calm him down! I got nothing!"

"No! Get away! Burnnnnnnnnn!"

Unconsciously, the madman begins thrashing his arms about, setting flames to the room.

"Attention Morte I have a question. Should we-"

"Yes! Absolutely we should run! Yes!"

Nordom actually listens and follows the others out all while looking at his crossbows.

"No! My wonderful inn! How could you let this happen skull!?"

"Oh I'm sorry I didn't have hands to put out the flames! Although even if I did have hands, what would you expect me to do? Fan them out? Sure, I'll just give a little air, that'll clear things out!"

"That's the spirit skull! Maintain a positive outlook on life! That'll get you through just fine!"

Everyone turns to see who just spoke, and Morte is not happy.

"Oh god not you again! Of all the times….."

"Mr. Morte! It's an honor to see you again! Boy have I got a story to tell you! It began with me constructing a very fine coffin-"

"Hey no offense Hamrys, but isn't that inn on fire? That's so beautiful!"

"Oh hey there," Morte's tone suddenly turns cheery. "Nenny, right? Tell me madam, how have your experiences been without me in your life?"

"Oh quite remarkable actually! The hand of Vecna-"

"Masssssssster!"

"Uh sorry. Love to hear your tales, but we're about to have a repeat of Winterhold."

"Wow," Hamrys says somewhat awed. "How did you last this long with him? Mages bet that he would've roasted you by now!"

"Well that's going to happen if we don't calm him down!"

"Analysis: Solution = temple director + sensate?"

"Hey, is this the modron Brelyna mentioned? That's so awesome? And what's with the crossbows? Where are your wings mate?"

"Answer: Wings = null quick recalibration of bolts = minimum speed necessary for defensive measures."

Everyone looks at each other trying to make sense of…. Whatever he just said. Nenny figures it out first.

"Oh, I get it! He got rid of his wings to make it easier to reload his crossbows! Clever for a modron!"

"You understood that?" Morte shakes his head. "Oh poor girl. If only I'd met you before you became a sensate."

The shouts from in the inn continue and the flames begin to leap onto other roofs.

"We need the chief and that other sensate. You folks try to contain the flames, and I'll go bring them down here."

"No need to worry Morte. I'll go get them! I've always wanted to experience a daedric temple!"

"No wait, Nenny! Come on, it's dangerous up there! Wait! Stay with me!"

"Sorry Mr. Morte. Impossible to stop her once she gets going! Believe me I've tried! For example, this one time…."

Morte closes his eye, wishing he had hands to cover his ears and blot out the madness around him.

…

"You've probably figured it out by now, but I'll tell it anyway. I used to be a priest of Vaermina. That explains my experience with this place. I abandoned my brothers here and now I've returned to…. Are you by chance listening?"

You are in fact not listening. You are miles away in more dreams.

"My friend, please wake up! You're losing yourself to more dreams! You must fight Vaermina's influence!"

"Oh dear. It doesn't appear he's listening. You have my sympathies."

Erandur turns and finds himself face to face with an Abishai. A red Abishai at that. The strongest of the Abishai ranks.

"Who are you sir and why are you here? This is a temple dedicated to Vaermina! Your kind has no business here!"

"On the contrary. We have business everywhere. Especially in a lawless land such as this."

"Are you… responsible for the nightmares? The town's suffering? I thought-"

"Oh, we can't take credit for that. You can however I believe." The creature flashes his teeth. "We're here for your scarred friend actually. He owes us something. No need to rouse him. It's perhaps better he doesn't witness it."

Erandur steps in front of you as you continue to shudder from images of blood and anguish.

"This man owes nothing to the likes of you! Return to the hell from which your putrid form crawled out!"

"It's pointless to fight. This town is just the first of many. We are legion."

"Yeah. That's right. It's pointless." Another Abishai emerges from the darkness. This one is green. "Even if you got out, you'd be stabbed in the back by our spy in town."

Erandur's eyes widen form that statement. As do the red Abishai's who in response rips his compatriot's head off.

"I apologize for that. It means that I must now remove my offer to let you leave. Sorry."

It's at that moment that fate apparently again having a change of heart, decides to have the roof fall down right on top of the Abishai.

"Hey there magie! It's me Nenny, remember? Oh, that's right. You don't remember anything do you? That's a real bummer! I've had so many experiences since then I would love to share with you!"

"Perhaps that can wait, madam? We need to get to the source of these nightmares. Can you help me move him?"

"Sure thing mister! Always glad to help a fellow sensate! Isn't this just the most amazing experience ever?"

Erandur looks at her, muttering with dismay. "Have our standards fallen so low?"

"Pardon sir?"

Roars from overhead end the discussion.

"Apologies my dear, but we'll have to discuss amazing "experiences" at a later date. We're about to have a very bad experience, from the sounds of things."

"The only bad experience is no experience! That's my philosophy! Come on old friend! Let's do our work and get you home! We've got bigger problems!"

She and Erandur place one of your arms over each of their shoulders and carry you further inward with you lost in the recesses of your mind.

…

"Hey! Hey pure boy! We need your help! Our local crazy mage has gotten himself put under and won't come out! So can you work some of your calming mojo on him?"

Silus Vesuius does not come out of his museum. Supposedly it's hard to hear amidst all the commotion. Hence he hits his head against the door.

"Come on buddy! Thought you were here to restore law! Cause guess what? There's not a lot of law here right now! So maybe work on that, hmm?"

Frustrated, he finally grabs the door with his teeth and turns it. Not something he's done for some time, so he forgets how much it hurts his teeth.

"Look pal! We're busting our balls out here! So maybe lend a hand instead of-"

Instead of say, engaging with a trio of what appear to be cornugons? Morte stares at the room's inhabitants and they stare back.

Before Morte can do anything, Vesuius mutters a few words and all goes black.

…

"This is it. It must be. The skull of corruption. The source of nightmares."

Erandur is referring to the skull atop the pedestal before your little trio. It gives off a terrible aura. Not that you would know that. Since you're lost in another world within your mind.

"Wonder what he's dreaming?" Nenny asks sounding more curious than concerned.

"Whatever it is, he cannot help us. I must work to dismantle the skull. You will have to keep those demons off of us by yourself. Are you prepared?"

"Why of course! I'm ready for anything!" She grins. "Besides I've learned a lot at the college these last few months! I live for pain!"

"Uh….. Good…. For you…. I suppose."

Nenny places her hand on your head.

"Hang in there friend. We'll get you out of this. I give you a Nenny promise!"

You don't hear this Nenny promise from within your latest vision.

"Um… Maam. Are you? Err well… are you the hag?"

The "hag" flashes an angry look at the pathetic wretch before her. Aka you.

Well that's done it, you think to yourself. All those years of manipulation and lies. Now when you need it most, you've lost the gift, it seems.

Of course, that was for lower life forms. Hardly applicable to what you're facing now.

"I take it you want my help, scarred man? A little advice. Hag is no way to address a lady."

"But you are a hag, are you not? I mean, that is what you are?"

She actually smirks a bit at your cringing performance. You meanwhile are in full panic mode within.

"Terrible as your manners are, you must have remarkable strength to reach a place like this. Such a mortal is unheard of."

You look at her pupil less red eyes. You didn't think this was a good idea when the skull suggested it and you don't think so now.

"I can perhaps hear you out. You have proven yourself interesting at the very least. Of course if I'm to help you with whatever it is that ails you, I expect payment."

"What… What kind of payment?"

She grins, showing her tusks. You're not going to like this.

"Are you done yet sir? I'm running out of spells from my book."

"Almost…. There…. Just a little….more…"

"I'm afraid not." Another red Abishai strolls down the stairs. "Let's not make this any harder than it must little mage. Ancano just wants the eye from your friend. It's nothing personal."

"Like hell it isn't. Your boss wants to destroy the most dangerous college on this plane! Do you know how exciting it is to constantly be in mortal peril at work? I wouldn't trade that for anything!"

The Abishai stare at each other, no idea how to respond.

"Nenny… Do something…."

Fortunately before they can do something, you react to your dream and unleash the spell in your mind.

That's when you wake up and see to your surprise a horde of dead reptiles, a smashed fake skull, Erandur lying in the corner clutching his shoulders, and a giggling girl in pink.

"Hey pal! Good to see you again!"

You blink.

"Who the f*k are you?"

…

"So Ignus went apeshit and burned down half the town? We got banned despite ending the nightmares, and these crazy mages are my friends?"

"Affirmative director: To quote Morte: All's hell that ends hell."

"That's not how it goes at all, you stupid polygon."

You turn to Ignus. He doesn't seem at all concerned with his latest crime.

"I'd tell you to make amends for what you've done. But… somehow I don't think you're capable of that."

He continues to stare at you. You feel the heat from his embers rise.

"Of courssssssssssssse not…. You ssssssssssssaw to that….."

That immediately springs to mind your dream of Deionorra and you….

Before you can raise that to Ignus, he's already sauntering off.

"Ah Mr. Scar. You have my thanks for fixing this town's dreams." Silus Vesuius seems to appear out of nowhere. "Of course, your friend did burn half it down. But still. You did your best."

"Yeah, we're cracking up from the emotion here," snarks Morte.

"Speaking of cracking up, how do you feel Morte? Do you remember anything?"

"Nothing." The skull frowns. "I just went over to get you and next then I know I'm waking up to half the town burning."

Silus visibly relaxes and turns to you.

"I wish you luck Mr. Scar. And if you should have the time, could you keep an eye out for the razor?"

"Huh? Razor?"

Looking through the journal, you're reminded of the promise you apparently made.

"Oh right. Yeah sure. If I come across anything…"

"Thank you my friend. My door is always open. Though it might be best if you came alone." He nods in Ignus' direction. "I must go now to prepare for my father's arrival."

"Father? You have a father? That's wonderful! Fathers are the best aren't they? My father taught me to make coffins and-"

"Ok, that's enough Hamrys." Nenny shushes him. "I'd love to talk but we need to get that eye back to the college. Now before Ancano sends more Baatezu."

"How did they know where to find us? The journal says we've been under the radar."

"I don't know, but Ancano knows you have the eye. He wants both that and the hand. And he's done waiting for it."

"…Meaning?"

"Meaning we're out of time. Winterhold is under attack. We need you."

Ignus grins while Nordom looks at his crossbows.

"Permission to engage in procreation with attackers?"

"That's not what….. Ah what the hell? To war!"

"Great idea! And then to the mortuary!"

"…Mortuary? What do you mean Morte?"

"Uh, hello! Those zombie chits ain't gonna please themselves! It's the least we deserve after all we've been through!"

"Wow, that sounds amazing! Gosh I am so glad I left the festhall!"

 


	18. The Battle of Winterhold

"So, uh chief? Can I just clarify state something?"

"Let me guess. You want to go through a portal to some plane filled with hot Tanar'ri women feasting on your flesh and banging you hard."

"Well, that's not quite how I would put it. But it does sound nice, now that you mention it."

"Wow! That does sound amazing! Thank you Mr. Morte! I have to go experience that someday!"

"Err, I didn't take you for the type to-"

"That's not the point is it, though?" You stare at him with a raised eyebrow. "The point is you'd rather be anywhere but here, right?"

Morte snorts. "Gee. Ya think? Do you want to be here? Does anyone?"

"Yessssssss….. It isssssssssss beautiful…. It issssssssss art….."

You stare upon the scene before you. You could kind of see an artist painting it if they were a psychopath.

From what your journal has suggested, Winterhold was kind of a dump already. It has not improved.

Already decrepit homes have been turned to rubble, and what remains is lit on fire. From this altitude, you can see fighting in the streets. People, baatezu, and… other things.

The college meanwhile, is surrounded by a tsunami of green energy. It rises into the sky, shaking the world around it with tremors for miles.

"Wow. I haven't… I haven't seen something like this since… well a long time." Hamrys sounds much more constrained and less excited than usual.

"Really?" Nenny looks curious. "What happened?"

"Father. When the Ideal Masters came for him." His face turns white.

"Analysis: Director. Nordom and crossbows detect similar energy to the eye of Vecna arising from the large structure. Recommended course of action?"

Looking about, you quickly realize all eyes in your little crew are on you.

"Err…. Right. So, if that stuff is coming from the hand of Vecna, you reckon we can dispel it with his eye?"

"Affirmative director. Recommend usage at closest possible proximity."

"So, we just have to fight our way to the other side of town?" Morte moans. "Have you seen the shit show down there? It's a goddamn massacre!"

"Ah, come on Mr. Morte! Surely you've faced worse in your time?"

"Well sure, but that doesn't mean I enjoy it! And those aren't just crazy townsfolk raging in the streets. I see Abishai, lemures, nupperibos, hell even fucking cornugons!"

"Fear not my bony friend! I and my noble steed, Dimtree, shall see you come to no harm!"

"Oh terrific. As long as I've got Mr.-can't-shut-the-fuck-up here, it doesn't matter how many fiends throw themselves at me, right? Seriously, I think I'd rather stick with Ignus! And yes, I know how crazy that sounds!"

"Hey wait." You look about suddenly. "Where is Ignus, anyway?"

"Beware insssssssssectssssssssss….. the flamesssssssssss have returned!"

To your dismay, your fiery friend is belting down the hill towards the town he once destroyed.

"So….. Morte, you wanna lead this time?"

He stares at you, not amused.

…

"Keep them away from the edge, Jarl! We can't allow a single one to escape!"

"Oh, I'm sorry? Is the head of the institution responsible for this town's poor condition, really telling me now how best to save it?"

"If you want to live another day, you will! And for the record, we did not destroy this town!"

"No…. Ignussssssssssssss did!"

"Huh? Who- Oh, crap! Out of the way!"

Mirabelle pushes the jarl out of the way just as the bane of Winterhold's existence comes blasting through in an inferno of eager destruction.

The fighting in the streets between townsfolk, mages, and Baatezu pauses for a moment as everyone witnesses with clear horror the newest arrival.

"What the hell is that? Did someone light some poor berk on fire?"

"Yeah, but frankly it doesn't seem to bother him that much!"

"It's the destroyer! The college's monster! They've sent him out to finish the job!"

"Oh, come on! These monsters were going to do that already! Why would we use him?"

"Foolsssssss… traitorssssssssss…. Ignussssssssss gave a gift…. And you refusssssssssed! You dessssssssssserve thisssssssssssss….. all of-"

He is suddenly silenced as an orb of magic hits him in the back and knocks him to the ground.

"Damn. Wish I'd known it were that easy to put him down. Would've spared us a lot of headaches, right chief?"

"You!" Mirabelle turns about to face you as the Baatezu push forward again. "Took your time! Do you have the eye? Where's the headmaster?"

"Err. Right. The headmaster. Well the thing is… uh."

You don't finish your sentence. But it doesn't appear you need to. The realization dawns on her face. And even with the surrounding carnage, she seems far away.

"He can't. You don't mean. I mean. He can't. Savos…"

"Lady! Get out of the way!" Morte bites her collar and pulls her aside from another stray missile attack.

"Get them Dimtree! We'll have them in a nice fine coffin yet!"

"Maam? Maam, can you hear me?" You snap your fingers before her eyes. She still seems conflicted.

"Mirabelle! Snap out of it! You're stronger than that!" Nenny of all people grabs the woman's shoulders and shakes her about. "We need you! Savos trusted this college to you! You can't let him down!"

Nenny suddenly is hit with a stray spell which seems to knock some sense back into Mirabelle.

"Nobody fucks with my students!" She rises to her feet and spreads her hands chanting a horrific sounding spell.

From beneath the ground, multiple hands rise and grab the ankle of several of the Abishai who are then pulled down screaming to their doom.

"Holy shit! Summoning frigging Tanar'ri! Love the irony in that teacher! Keep it up!" Hamrys smiles.

"Professor," you try to get her attention. "Professor, I need to get to the college. I have the eye! I bet I can dispel the barrier! Maybe even stop the hand!"

"Good luck getting there. Ancano's got all his little buddies keeping us back until he finishes whatever annoying little spell he's got cooking up. And we don't have the manpower to push them back."

"Only… need….. flamesssssssss….."

To both your relief and horror, Ignus rises from the ground just as the Baatezu reach the desperate mages. They pause, unsure how to handle this well-established threat. The lead cornugon however has other ideas.

"Get him you fools! Now, before he-"

Too late. The old Ignus comes back with a vengeance. With a snap of his fingers the damnable monsters are set on fire….. along with more of the town.

"Not again…." Mirabelle looks about with dismay.

"Not quite how we wanted it I know. But right now, that loon is our best defense." Hamrys turns to Mirabelle. "Professor, I say we use it. Let him have his fun with them."

"He has a point, professor." Nenny looks at the carnage with determination. "He can be the distraction while we make a beeline for the college."

"Oh no! Not a chance in hell! We are not letting that maniac run-"

The jarl's next word is silenced as a black Abishai leaps out from a nearby alley onto him. Before the beast can finish him off, Nordom fires a crossbow through his neck.

"Director. Please discuss next objective. Time = diminishment. Require action."

"Go on!" Mirabelle gets to her feet, seemingly having gotten over her state. "You take the skull and the cube up to the college and bring that bastard down! The rest of us will handle these bastards! Make Aren proud!"

You frown. "Uh… who?"

"Ok, let's go chief. Like now." Morte says taking notice of Mirabelle's shocked angry look.

"For the record, that was the headmaster's name."

"Damn. Knew I forgot to record something."

You run as fast as you can. Through the hordes of angry beasts biting at you, trying to slow you down. At least it's a chance to use your spells. At least the ones you've had time to remember today while you ran all the way from Dawnstar to here.

"Hey dickless! If you win, you should ask the mages to make you a spare!"

Apparently even Baatezu are not immune to penis jokes and climb over each other to get the skull. So, determined are they to wring Morte's non-existent neck they don't even respond when Nordom shoots a magical arrow through their heads.

"Attention Morte. I have a question. How do you make subjects of taunt so distracted?"

"Why my magnetic personality of course." He grins at Nordom's obvious confusion.

"Analysis: Nordom is confused. Processing."

"Crap! Get off!" You punch another Abishai as he tries to sink his teeth into your shoulder. He merely grins.

"Uh, chief. Only magic hurts them!"

"Way to tell me that now, pal!"

"I did tell you! What, did you for- Oh."

You quickly think of the spells you had time to remember on the road. You randomly speak one out loud.

Just like that, the beast is hit by a blast of lightning. You don't even hear its scream. Then it's followed by another bolt. And another. And another…..

"Christ chief! What did you do? Summon a typhoon?"

"I just said a spell! I didn't have time to check which!"

"Analysis: Strong electrical presence in local atmosphere. Is this a result of Morte's magnetic personality?"

"Oh haha. You're a riot you know that cube? You should do standup!"

"Query: I am confused. I am already standing."

"It appears your taste in friends hasn't improved Nameless one. Not one bit."

A cornugon stands before you with an amused expression on his face. He doesn't seem at all intimidated.

"Uh… sure… And you are?"

"None of your concern. All you need to know it that you have a chance to survive this. To retake your rightful place at our side. But you have to do it now."

"Think we got a better answer for you berk." Morte turns to you. "Move dude! Here comes the heat!"

The cornugon looks confused for a moment, but realization dawns in too late as Ignus' flames roast him and his buddies alive.

"Attention Morte. I have a question. Does this indicate Ignus also has a magnetic personality?"

"Shut up and move it moron! We've got a college full of hot mages to save!"

The three of you push on through, ducking and dodging between demons and savage blob-like monsters until you finally reach the base of the steps…. Only to once again find it blocked. This time by what appear to be redguards.

"You again. Of course, you would be here at this time. This is your doing no doubt? I knew the instant I saw you in the bar talking to one of these monsters, that you had ill intentions for this town."

"I'm sorry, what? You smoking skooma?"

One of the men scowls. "Don't play coy with us murderer. You've done your share of harm to this town. Hell, to this plane. First you lead our people down the path of destruction. Then you send your pupil here to burn our home. And now? Now a few months after you return in our lives, your old war buddies march through town? Coincidence? I think not?"

"Hey, hey. We're here to fix this berk. We-"

"Fix? You fix this? There is no version of this story where you "fix" things for the better. You are a disease on this world and those who follow you. You are not welcome here. You-"

He is silenced by a spell in the back. His companions turn around and to their shock (and yours) encounter a rather old woman who appears to be blind.

"Yeh might be right whippersnappers! But right now he's all yeh've got! So, I suggest yeh put yehre dick slapping on hold and defend this shitty little backwater!" She looks about at all the stunned faces. "Well, what're yeh looking at? I may be blind, but I sure as hell know when people stare! If yeh've got time to stare, yeh've got time to put out fires! So, get! Get! Or yeh'll be fetching my laundry!"

That sends them packing. She turns to you with a frown on her face.

"Took yeh're time didn't yeh? All yeh had to do was get a stinking eyeball, didn't yeh? I swear youth these days. Want something fer nothing?"

"Yeah… I imagine….. So, we're here anyway. Here to save the college, I guess."

"Well don't waste time with me then child! This whole stinking town's counting on yeh and these…. Err… tag alongs."

"Tag along!? Me!? Lady, I'm the star of this story! Without me, this berk would be-"

"Yes, yes. I'll be delighted to hear yeh're bragging skull. Once you've cleaned up this mess of course. Hell, do a really good job and I'll even let yeh do my laundry!"

"Ok, bye." You grab Morte and Nordom and begin your climb up to the portal at top. From there, it appears the Baatezu are spawning.

"Back! Back, you devils! Keep your hands off my precious chocolate! Touch it and I'll rip your lungs out!"

"Sure, professor, sure. The chocolate is crossing the line, but not attacking your students?"

"Silence, Greyskin! The benefits of magical chocolate imps come before your personal care!"

"Don't call me greyskin you old coot! I've cleaned your bathroom! Do you know how smelly any room you step in gets?"

"You should be honored to clean any place I set foot, arrogant girl! Just the honor to even stand in Winterhold college should be sufficient."

"Analysis: Director, Nordom recommends usage of eye to counteract effects of hand and gain entry to college."

"Yeah, but how? How do I do it?"

"Processing. Standby. Bbbbbbbbbzzzzzzzzzztttttttttt."

"Oh, come on! We do not have time for this! Chief, go ask one of those mages- Oh shit!"

A swarm of lemures approach you from the town's direction. Their blobby bodies somehow evaded your notice over the noise and chaos emanating all around you.

"You hungry! Bite on this fat boys!" Morte indeed bites, but finds his teeth stuck on one.

"Mmmmpppphhh! Cccchhhhhhffff! Llllllluuuuullllll hhhhhnnnnnndddd?"

"I don't know. I'm kind of liking this new you."

"Sssssssshhhhhhhoooooooo!"

"Confirmation: To properly use body part of Vecna, remove subject's own body part corresponding to body part in possession and replace with currently held body part of Vecna."

"Nnnnnnnnggggggiiiiiiissssssssshhhhhhhh!"

"I think he wants me to replace my eye with the Vecna eye."

"Ssssssssssuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyyy? Uuuuuuuuuuuu!"

"I'll say." You dislodge Morte from the lemure's body and repay it with a swarm of force missiles. Morte meanwhile scraps his teeth on the bridge, trying to get the stuff out of his mouth.

"Query: Does Director wish to engage in procreation with eye?"

"Uh, Nordom. I don't think you meant what you said."

"Nordom detects hesitation on Director's behalf. Nordom will search for alternate solution. Processing. Standby. Bbbbbbbbbzzzzzzzzzztttttttttt."

"No! Wait! Nordom! Damn it! Can I for once get some competent help!"

"You have me!" Morte spits out bits of Lemure angrily.

"Like, I said! Competent help, for once! Please! Is it too much to ask!"

"Director, Nordom has reached an alternate solution. Standby."

"Oh no! Please, not the bbbbbbbbzzzzzzzzzztttttttttt again! Please! Anything!"

To your relief, he does not do that. To your dismay, he pulls out one of his klikking eyes and replaces it with the eye of Vecna.

"Chief? Tell me the moron did not just stick the eye in his own eye socket."

"Uh… Ok? He didn't? Happy?"

A shriek from the modron seems to stop all time. Your friend looks up at you with no trace of the uncertainty that has plagued him your entire trip.

"Uh Nordom? You ok?"

"Pffft? Is he ok? You seriously gonna ask him that chief?"

"What? He's not any worse than you, right?"

"Excuse me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well nothing personal Morte but." You pause and launch another missile at an excitable bunch of abishais. "But between your constant flirting, lack of body, and obsession over this Gerdur woman, I'd say it's not a stretch to say you've got your own share of issues."

"Well that's a fine how do you do! Just laying it all out there for me huh? Well, I ain't the only one berk! You know what you look like? You look like-"

You don't get to hear what you look like because Nordom speaks.

"READY FOR DEPLOYMENT DIRECTOR."

"Huh? Wait, what?"

Without another word, he turns around to the barrier raises his hands and seemingly floating off the ground shoots a bolt of…. Something from his motherfucking eyes.

The barrier shifts color and seems to shriek in response. But soon, it vanishes in a blast of pure light.

Everyone in the entire town stops what they're doing and stares in awe at the work of nature that has just occurred. Except you and Morte who are staring at the architect.

"COLLEGE IS ACCESSIBLE. FOLLOW IN FORMATION DIRECTOR AND SKULL."

"Ok, and I thought you were insufferable without working eyes. But now?" Morte shakes his head.

"Guess we'll just…. I don't know. Let's just go… Nordom? You are Nordom right?"

"I AM NORDOM. AND I AM ALSO NOT NORDOM. NORDOM = NORDOM. NORDOM ALSO NULL = NORDOM. NORDOM = SUPREME."

You and Morte stare at each other but simply shrug your shoulders. Guess the modron's leading the show now. So, you obey and follow.

"You!" Master Quell looks at you in shock as you run past. "Here for my chocolate again? Well tough luck boy! These monsters already ate it!"

"Oh, my heart's breaking professor. Now move or you'll lose more than chocolate!" You push him aside angrily."

"Hey wait! You're back?" Brelyna grabs your shoulder a little roughly. "Did Hamrys and Nenny find you? And where's the headmaster? He said he was going to meet you."

"He did." You push on by, ignoring her confused look.

"So, what-"

"Listen chit. He is not in a good place right now. He just wants to get this shit over with, so he can go to sleep and forget all of it the next day. So how about we go in there and finish the job huh?"

Still looking confused, she nods and follows.

"Now hold on! You're not going in without a master!"

"Me neither! I yearn for the experience!" Nenny comes running up. "I can't wait!"

"No."

You turn around surprised to see Hamrys being serious. Nenny herself seems surprised too.

"Nenny, you stay out here with the other teachers. We need all the help we can to keep these monsters from leaving town. Leave it to us. We'll get Ancano."

Nenny raises her eyebrow at this. "Well well Hamrys. I didn't know you could be so-"

"Stop flirting and get a move on! Flirting is my job, dig? Geez! People!" Morte floats on angrily by. Hamrys looks apologetically at her and follows your team. After a moment's hesitation, Quell follows too.

At the entrance to town unnoticed by the fighters, figures in red observe the scene with interest.

"Well well. Our little modron has made something of himself after all. I never would have thought."

"How the hell did a modron of all things pull that off? The damn thing could barely speak last time I checked."

"Now now, dear husband. These are the planes. Anything is possible. I for one am delighted to see where this leads. Shall we observe?"

The husband looks at the rampaging Ignus having a helluva time lighting everything around him. The baatezu should be having no trouble against the small number of mages and the helpless townsfolk. But even they can't last long against Ignus' wrath.

"The things I do for love." The man shakes his head. "You owe me big when we get back Astrid."

She merely smiles. "Oh come now Arnbjorn. You don't get special treatment for an overly powerful mage. It's unusual but certainly not worth a night of… well you know."

A roar stuns them and the rest of town. The figures in red stare up along with everyone in fear at two massive beings flying overhead for the college.

"Now that. That earns me a whole week of…. You know."

She sighs. She does not look forward to tonight.

…

The familiar courtyard of Winterhold college stands before you. Actually, is it familiar? For someone like you probably not. What is familiar however is the throng of Baatezu marching through the doors, glaring at you with bloodlust.

"Those doors lead to the portal to Baatezu! Let's find a way to close it up!" Brelyna moves towards the door but is stopped by Quell's hand on her shoulder.

"First we take out their head. That bastard Ancano. He broke my trust. He won't see the end of this day."

"Might have been a dumb idea to trust him then dumb shit." Morte snarks over his…. Non-existent shoulder.

"Dumb? You dare call a mage of the highest caliber dumb? I have half a mind to teach you some manners right here and now!"

"You teach me something? How about I teach you how to maintain a smaller gut? First rule: No chocolate!"

"You little!"

You try your damn hardest to ignore them and ready yourself for the impending horde closing in. The only person who doesn't seem bothered is Nordom. Assuming you can call him that anymore.

"Uh Nordom? Maybe take a step back from the demons?"

"FEAR NOT. AS DO I NOT."

"Wow, that is one weird machine you found there buddy! Is he some kind of summon like my friend Dimtree?"

"You know, I really don't think-"

What you think doesn't matter as from the portal you just entered, two massive dragons suddenly fly straight in. The baatezu cower at the sight of their old foes. The beasts circle overhead and land on top of the ramparts.

"The Dovakhiin. And the slave Baatezu. I haven't forgotten your taste. It was delicious." One of the dragons stares at the demons who look at each other, hesitant to attack.

"All gathered in the presence of an artifact of remarkable power. Such a prize. Such a bounty for a hunt. Alduin will be most pleased. He might even promote me."

"Wow! Another dragon! And in the college itself! We just get all the fun don't we Dimtree?"

Dimtree does not share his master's joy.

"Oh goody. Another lowly worker hoping for his boss' balls in his mouth."

The beast grimaces as the courtyard laughs.

"Watch your tongue Dovakhiin. You may have the soul of a dova. But you are far from being one. Let me show you." He opens his mouth. You and everyone tense up.

"Be wary. He has already bested several of us."

"You worry too much Odhaviing. Those were small timers. Whereas I-"

What would have been a properly epic battle instantly becomes a slaughter as Nordom unleashes the wrath of his eye upon the dragon before he can shout. Shouts of panic erupt around the courtyard as the beast falls from his graceful perch and collapses lifeless upon the ground.

"ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US."

"Uh… what…."

The dragon Odhaviing stares at the cube as if in a trance. This was not how he expected this to go. He had come for the greatest prize of all. The only threat to his master Alduin's existence! Instead…..

Nordom's eyes shine up again and realizing the danger he's in, the dragon flees through the portal he just entered.

"Well that was…. Anti-climatic." Brelyna shrugs. "Honestly, I kind of expected something similar to last time." She shrugs.

"I'll take anti-climatic any day." You feel the soul of the beast flowing through you.

Nordom meanwhile turns to the Baatezu squad. They look at each other, clearly unsure how to deal with this upgraded modron.

"YOUR EXISTENCE DISGUSTS ME. LEAVE OR BE DELETED."

Raising their hands, the demons back away. Quell gestures Brelyna.

"We'll work to close the portal to Avernus. Take that…. Thing to the main chamber and find a way to stop the hand."

"Affirmative professor!" Hamrys stands at attention with his hands in a salute. You roll your eyes and follow the freakish Nordom.

You don't notice Morte's eyes widen at the mention of Avernus and instead try to talk with Nordom.

"You ok? You just took down that dragon like it was nothing."

"FEAR IS A WEAKNESS NO LONGER AVAILABLE TO ME. I HAVE ASCENDED BEYOND SUCH MORTAL FRAILTIES."

"Sheesh," Morte shakes his head. "And I thought he was infuriating before."

Stepping within the grand entrance hall, you find the source of the green energy. In the center of the chaos, a red Abishai you assume is Ancano holds his left hand up to the ceiling. It looks different from his right hand, and you have a pretty good idea why.

"USURPER. RETURN THE HAND, OR FACE THE WRATH OF THE FEARSOME CUBED WARRIOR."

Everyone, including the Abishai look at the totally serious modron. Total silence reigns until Ancano laughs like hell. It stops when he notices you.

"Oh look. The favorite. Where have you been? Do you know how bored I've been with these lowlifes? Not an original thought in their head."

"Oh, now that's not true! We have plenty of original thoughts, if you'd just give us a chance! For instance, we make the best coffins in-"

"See what I mean?" He nods at Hamrys.

His grin does not subside as his eyes pass over Morte.

"Lookie here. The Runaway. FYI. The pillar wants you back."

Morte pales, looking to you with shock in his eyes.

"Chief, what… Don't tell me…"

"Oh, right. Memory problems or something. Well for the record, he had a little chat with your old skull buddies. They made a bargain with him. Your return for knowledge."

"Wait, hold on. Hold the fuck on!" Morte looks at you with clear panic. "Chief, you… You didn't agree did you? I mean, you wouldn't right?"

"Morte, I can't even reme-"

"Are you sure? Are you sure you can't remember anything? You've got that nifty little journal. Who's to say you didn't remember that? You didn't… You didn't bring me here as bait did you? DID YOU?"

"Morte, I'm pretty sure I would've already done that."

"You shouldn't trust him skull." Ancano jeers you both on. "He's a sneaky one he is. He'll betray you at the drop of a hat. It's in his nature to deceive. Who's to say he didn't lead you here just to claim the hand himself. Let me tell you-"

"SILENCE. YOUR OPINION IS INSIGNIFICANT IN THE GRAND SCHEME OF THE PLAINS."

Nordom interrupts Ancano's gloating with another beam from his eye socket right at the hand artifact.

Ancano's smile quickly fades as he feels himself losing control of his weapon. He grabs his wrist and chants some unknown spells to maintain hold.

"Dimtree! Attack! Hold him down!"

The creature obeys, albeit with reluctance. You look through your journal, trying desperately to find something to help.

"Ok, uh…. How about this?" You mutter the words for something called cone of cold.

Instantly, a sphere of ice rings down from above and strikes the floor. It spreads out and covers over half the room in a sheet of ice. Including your feet.

"Chief! What the hell?"

"Whoops. Well at least it held him still." You gesture at the Abishai whose right hand is now frozen and unable to aid his other.

Nordom continues to pour his eye into his attack. Gradually, the energy from the hand grows smaller and smaller until it dissipates with a flash of light.

The wielder of the hand looks in shock at the modern who just bested him. Taking advantage of that shock, you launch yourself forward at his left hand and grab it.

"What are you doing? No, stop! You'll destroy us all! Idiot!"

You ignore him and in your rage, slice off his hand. The hand of Vecna that is.

…

Next thing you know you find yourself along with Ancano in a barren dead land. Even with your memory problems, you know in your heart where you are.

"This place. This is Baator. But not Avernus. Somewhere deeper." Ancano stutters. "I know this. But how? How is this possible? How are we here?"

"These are the planes fool. All things are possible with enough belief. At least for someone like me."

You both turn, you with confusion. Ancano with apparent fear.

Before you stands a rather tall man with horns, black hair, and red eyes whose glow warns you of a greater power within. He stares at Ancano with great annoyance.

"Master…. I." Ancano immediately drops to his knees, quivering all over. This does not impress the man before you.

"I'm sure you don't recognize a frail insignificant Abishai like me, but-"

"Your actions have made me aware of your name actually, Ancano of Avernus. Unfortunate for you, since I usually don't attend to low lifes like you personally." He smirks a bit. "Unless of course they really fuck things up, like say, misuse the hand of Vecna and get warped before me. That does take quite a lack of experience to pull off."

"I assure you, master. I had everything under control-"

"If that were true, then why are you here? Why is the hand of Vecna not here with you? Even a moron like you can see whatever control you might have had is now gone."

"I-"

"And I also know for a fact that your little siege on Winterhold came far too early for our tastes. We have a very clear time table in mind. And you broke it. You risked exposing ourselves. And for what exactly? A little extra glory? A pat on the head?"

"Master, I simply saw an opportunity and I took it."

That does not help his case. The man smirks bloodthirstily.

"And now I see an opportunity as well. To teach a lesson." He snaps his fingers. Ancano's guts fly out everywhere. It's around this time that he notices you.

"Those scars. I take it you're a recruit then? Quite a fine specimen judging by your physique."

"I…. Sorry what?" You don't know how to proceed.

"What? What do you mean what? Don't tell me you've never received a compliment before? And one coming from me, well. That's very rare indeed. You should be grateful, no?"

You continue to stare. You have no idea how to respond. You can't see anyway out of this nightmarish place. And this berk does not seem like someone to tread around lightly.

He grows impatient with your silence and raises a finger.

"Do you want to end up like him? Get talking. What is your platoon, soldier?"

"Platoon? What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? I know we hire a lot of fools in this line of work, but seriously? What is your platoon? Where are you stationed? What is your role?"

"My role? Well uh… Dragonborn?"

You immediately realize you shouldn't have said that. But too late. His eyebrows raise.

"Excuse me? Are you playing fancy with me boy?"

"Uh… Sure?... I mean I guess…. Why not….."

He stares at you with an impossible to read expression.

"Well we've got quite a character here. If you won't cough up your secrets, allow me."

He raises his hands and places them on both sides of your head. Instantly, you are hit with a range of images. All of them involving you but moving too fast to make them out.

He lets go and you fall to the ground. He looks impressed all of a sudden.

"Well it appears Ancano did one good thing. He gave us a formal introduction. I suppose we should get acquainted. I'll start then."

That's when a portal opens up behind you and Nordom with the eye still stuck in his socket pulls you through. The man is clearly caught off guard which is probably the only reason you get away. Before you vanish back, you see the suspiciously familiar symbol on his ring.

…

"Chief! Chief, you ok!?"

"Yeah. Yeah great. Just watched Ancano blasted to bloody bits. Fun bits."

"Wow! You man!" Hamrys pauses a moment. "You are just the… Like wow. I'm telling you. The way you like… I mean… wow…"

"Take it easy Hamrys. Don't want to have a stroke."

Morte shrugs. "It would shut him up."

Quell, who is now in the room along with Brelyna, weaves another spell and the hand of Vecna rises into the air.

"We're gonna need a bigger cell."

You take a moment to rise to your feet. When you do, you notice something weird.

"Where's Nordom?"

"Huh?" Morte looks about. "Wait, did he leave? Hallelujah! This day just gets better and better!"

"This is serious Morte. He still has the eye! Nordom! Nordom!"

…

"Nordom. Good to see you again."

The cube turns around. He immediately recognizes the woman before him as his old master.

"SUBJECT ASTRID. HAVE YOU COME TO WORSHIP?"

"I've come to help you complete your mission. You remember your mission yes? You've done everything amazingly."

"MY MISSION?"

"Yes. Your mission. To recover the eye of Vecna. Shame we couldn't recover the hand. But still. To recover even the eye. Most impressive."

Nordom pauses again, looking towards the inner hall.

"THE DIRECTOR. THE NEW DIRECTOR. HE GAVE ME PURPOSE."

"No Nordom. He distracted you from it. Your real purpose has always been the same. Or have you forgotten?"

"STANDBY. PROCESSING."

He pauses for a time, his eyes klikking and processing the relevant information. His recent memories with the Dragonborn. And those before.

"SUBJECT ASTRID = LEADER OF DARK BROTHERHOOD = DIRECTOR= MASTER OF NORDOM."

She smiles. No matter how much power he obtained, he would always remain her lost little modron. Her husband Arnbjorn steps out from the shadows, followed by a Khajit mage.

"Hey Astrid. You found him? I found a cat mage down in the dungeons. He says they imprisoned him for testing himself. He'd like a place with less restrictions."

"J'zargo has had his fill with this puny college. He can do much for Dark brotherhood. He yearns to learn the mysteries of the dark.

Astrid's smile grew bigger. "Quite a catch we made today, no?"

…

You step outside of the college finally, with your head held high. After a long hard-fought battle, you finally look forward to someone showing you the respect you've earned.

Instead you're met with angry people crowded around a mountain of corpses, a graveyard of homes, and an annoyed Ignus.

"You! You destroyed it all again! Have you no self-control?"

"You're welcome….."

"Nameless one!" The angry people march towards you. "Your friend here destroyed it all! Again! How could you bring him here?"

"Not like I could get rid of him if I tried," you mutter. But still you strut through the crowd and come face to face with the mage.

"Let me guesssssssss… upssssssssset…"

"Yes! Yes! I'm upset! I wanted you to burn only the demons! Not the town and the people!"

"What difference doessssssssss it make…. They are only good asssssssssss tinder…" He looks about the crowd, causing them to jump in fear.

"Thisssssssssssss… it isssssssssssss how you taught me… now you reject me… what do you want?"

You stare at him for a long time. You realize the danger of what you're about to do. But looking at the body pile, which includes children, you have no choice.

"I want you to leave. There I said it, ok? This is too far. You're crazy."

His eyes glow again. His flames rise. Morte looks back at Quell.

"Still got that hand?"

"Shit. Knew I forgot something."

"You want me to leave?" Ignus moves forward a bit. "After all I have done…."

"No. Enough. We teamed up to bring the eye back. We did. I put up with all your shit and-"

"You wissssssssssh me to leave….. masssssssster… I cannot… I cannot leave it all behind… not your teachingsssssssssss….. not your rage…."

"I'm sorry, Ok? I'm sorry for whatever I did. I can't take it back. Just as you can't take back all this."

You stare at each other for a long time. The rest of the town waits on edge to see how you both will respond.

"We are… tormented….."

You smile a bit.

"Yeah. On that, I agree with you."

He suddenly launches a blast of flames at you, knocking you back. All the mages ready themselves to attack.

But before he can respond a portal opens from behind him. The mage looks back confused. You take the chance.

"Knock him in!"

You and the mages launch your strongest attacks. Caught off guard, he does not have time to respond before he is hit back into the portal to who knows where.

From afar, Nordom stares at the village. His eye of Vecna gleams from casting the portal.

"MY LAST FAVOR TO YOU DIRECTOR. ERROR. FORMER DIRECTOR. THE CROSSBOWS BID FAREWELL."

"Well that was…. Convenient. Again." Morte shrugs.

"I'll take that whenever I can." You find Quell of all people extending his hand and you take it.

"That's a refreshing change. I've earned hand to hand hmm?"

"Hmph well. You did help save the college I suppose. Even if your modron ended up doing most of the work and getting away with the eye. So, yes. I suppose you did an acceptable job."

"Acceptable?" The jarl strides forward in anger. "Our home is destroyed again! This is not acceptable in my book! This is outright failure! Failure by you damn mages again!"

"Now wait a second!" Mirabelle stans in front of you, looking worriedly.

"No! I've had it! If we don't get a home, neither do you!" He turns to the townsfolk. "Burn the college down!"

The mages stand their ground fearfully as the townsfolk march forward. You have no clue how to resolve this.

"Well for what it's worth…. Brelyna, it was really fun talking to you. You were a lot of fun."

"I wish I could say the same about you Hamrys. But instead I'll just say I like your fiend. He doesn't talk much.

Just as more violence is inevitable, a wall of flame separates the two sides.

"No! Ignus again!"

"Fear not Winterhold! Your saviors are here!"

Everyone turns. Somehow with all the commotion, nobody noticed the significant force of Stormcloak soldiers moving down the mountain towards town. Leading them is a man in fur who stares straight at you.

"Citizens of Winterhold! Your lives have been uprooted by travesty and lawlessness! But worry not! Ulfric Stormcloak has heard of your plight and comes to offer you his protection!"

Brelyna laughs. "He sure picked a convenient time, huh? Right when we've lost everything!"

The man looks at her with amusement. "Show gratitude greyskin mage! From what I can tell, your kind has much to answer for. Be grateful we do not respond with blood!"

"My kind!? MY KIND!?" Nenny has to restrain her as the townsfolk applaud and jeer.

"Wow, easy girl. Easy." Nenny whispers. "Pick your battles wisely."

"Great idea. Come on chief, let's hussle. No desire to speak with Ugly Ulfric again."

"You! Skull! Dragonborn!"

"Ah shit. Whaddaya want you old geezer? Can't you see we're doing fine without you?"

"Jarl Ulfric has unfinished business with you! He wants another chat! Come in peace, otherwise." The soldiers grip their weapons. A number look at each other. You can even hear some whispering, "Dragonborn?"

"No!" Hamrys stands in front. "This is my friend! He helped save this town and he's not- Wow." He steps back a bit upon seeing a sword at his throat.

"Don't try it son. Skyrim could use good men like you. Don't throw your life away for a traitor."

Hamrys stares with nervousness. Realizing you're hopelessly outmatched you place your hands on his shoulder.

"He's right. Save your energy. There'll be another time."

"But…. But buddy…"

"Hey. I survived 4 months with Ignus. I can handle this."

He stares at you for a bit. Finally, he nods and sighs.

"I know I'm annoying as hell. And I know I'm not all that fun to be around. But for what it's worth, I had fun with you."

You nod, give him one more pat on the back and turn to Morte. The skull stays silent for a bit before eventually sighing and consigning himself to his fate.

"Yeah sure. Why not. We save this useless town and our reward is another meeting with the douche jarl himself. Why not?"

You look to the mages, all of them wearing worried expressions.

"Well. See you when I see you."

Too bad you have no idea when that will be. And from the look on their faces, neither do they.

 


	19. On Your own Chief

Ulfric Stormcloak sits on his throne, surveying the odd duo before him. He apparently thought ahead this time, because both you and Morte have your hands in iron and your jaws latched shut. You can't quite tell how. Some sort of spell, you guess? It's a mixed blessing, because on one hand, you have no hands or mouth to assist. On the other, it sure is nice for Morte to shut up!

"Well….. You two have been busy."

He pauses a moment, as if he's waiting for you to respond. He appears to remember however you can't speak and continues.

"Joining the College of Winterhold. Awakening Winterhold's destroyer from his slumber. Finding the eye and hand of Vecna! And this." He twiddles a strange horn in his hands.

"The horn of Jurgen Windcaller." Oh right. That's the title. Damn this selective memory!

"No doubt the Greybeards sent you on this little errand. Most unfortunate that you ran into so many… what's the word? Oh right. Side quests."

He pauses for a moment more. He seems uncomfortable. You guess you'd feel strange too if you had to address an amnesiac scarred man and a talking skull.

"Seems you are worthy of the title of Dragonborn, however. You may take some time to get results. But results you get. Not only did you retrieve some of the most sought after relics in all the planes, you defended them against a full-fledged Baatezu assault! Your skills….. Your skills are truly a sight to behold."

"And with skills like that…. With skills like that, we may have a chance…. A chance to win. Not just against the empire. But against the fiends."

Morte tries to shout something through his clenched mouth, but to no avail. It just draws Ulfric's attention.

"Oh Morte. I take no pleasure in this. In any of this. But sacrifices are expected of us all. You. Me….. Gerdur."

"Ssssssttttyyyyyyyyy wwwwwwwwwwyyyyyy! Gggggguuuuuuuu tttttttt hhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiilllllllllll!"

The Jarl looks saddened by that, but not alarmed.

"I suppose I will. Yes. The lower planes will no doubt have me as their own. The upper planes tend to be very picky about morals. Even when they show so little." He takes a deep breath.

"But I will still fight. For a world that doesn't need me. My sacrifices will ensure that others need not follow me to the Lower Planes. They will ensure that the world I leave behind…. It may be better. A little at least. That's all any of us can do." He continues staring at Morte. Less so with sadness and more with anger.

"You think me a villain. You are not alone. Many think as you do. I can live with that. I can live with most thinking me a coward, madman, whatever title you label me." Another pause.

"But not from you. Not from you who have forfeit your duty. Even though by all rights, you should be rotting in Baator this very moment. You of all people should desire to give others a chance you never had Mortimer Rictusgrin. With your abilities, you could do great work across the planes. Instead, you waste your afterlife on lechery. All your talents wasted. Devoted to your own selfish pursuits. While the planes burn around you."

Morte stares unblinking. He makes no effort to snark or respond.

"People with all the power do nothing. Nothing to change things for the better. And you wonder why the planes are such a horrible place. It's because of…. Creatures like you. That's why I act. Because you won't. That's why Gerdur will never love you."

Morte trembles as the Jarl looks to you.

"You have some unfinished business with my old masters I believe. The Greybeards hold the means to fight the dragons. And perhaps the means to fight the fiends. You could save the planes, my friend. Isn't that worth working with me?"

He looks over you and nods at his right hand. Galma- No. Golum. Ah screw it, you can't remember!

"You gentlemen are in need of some serious direction. We're going to provide that and save Skyrim!"

You can't speak of course, to tell him to stick it up his ass.

…

"Chief? Chief, you got a plan?"

You don't have a plan. You've been tied up with apparently magical bonds on this wagon for some time and you haven't a damn clue what to do.

"Come on berk! You haven't gotten this far with that attitude have you? We've gotten out of worse, right?"

"How would I know? I can't remember yesterday!"

"Oh right. Well bottom line. Ulfric wants you to chat with the bearded geysers and convince them to give you some kind of power to beat the dragons. Oh, and he's kind of counting on you to help him win the civil war for Skyrim.." He smirks. "You're moving up in the world buddy."

He looks about from his cage. His eyes raised in amusement.

"Pity your memory don't work like it should. You might appreciate the irony."

Well I don't. So, can you explain?"

"This is how we met chief. On a wagon, just like this. Being led to our dooms. Of course, then we were captured by Imperials. Now it's by Stormcloaks. Either way, it ain't good."

"Well look on the bright side," you smile. "Maybe another dragon will come and save us."

He actually chuckles at that.

"Yeah. That's the funniest thing of all. We'd be dead without that dragon. And now we want to kill it and it's kind. I doubt we can count on that again though."

"Shut up back there!"

"See? We've even got the guard telling us to shut it! The Lady of Pain really has it out for me today!"

You are unable to talk for the rest of the day. You keep to yourselves, thinking of ways to escape. Nothing comes to mind though. They got the best locks just for you.

You get another chat at night, when you're both strung up under a tree and the guard assigned to watch over you falls asleep.

"Listen chief. While we've got the chance… There's a few things I wanna tell you. Well, ok. Wanna's the wrong word. More like I need to."

"Sounds like this'll be fun."

"Oh, you have no idea." He takes a deep breath.

"There may be a way to escape. For you anyway. No dragon this time. But…. God I can't believe I'm saying this! The Greybeards can help. There's a….. secret portal in High Hrothgar. I found it I did during my… time there."

"Wait, you spent time there?"

"Yeah. Most boring time of my life! Sheesh! Anyway, there's a portal for, I guess evacuation or something. When you get there, tell them the problem. They can help you leave."

"But, what about you?"

"Don't you remem- Oh right. Well they're keeping me down at the base. They're gonna send you up with someone up to the monastery. After that, you're on your own. They can't go into the place themselves, so your best chance to flee is then. Got it?"

"But… but what about you? You're not coming?"

"Not likely to happen chief. I don't see another chance for you to get out of this. You need to take this."

"But without you…. I can't believe I'm saying this. But I need you! Who's going to help me remember my bearings?"

"That's what the journal's for chief. And that cock Ulfric let you keep that at least. Besides you-" He looks away for a moment.

"You don't need me chief. I'm not the kind of partner you want at your side, believe me. It's not just my stupid jokes or constant hitting on women. I'm damaged. And not just because I don't have legs or a body. I've just slowed you down. You can't afford that from here on out."

"I doubt that very much. I can't remember everything but if you've tagged along this long, I'm sure you helped somehow."

"Well, I did have my moments." He smirks, recalling some fond memory. "I did piss a lot of dragons off. Me! Annoying a dragon!"

"But it's not enough. Not enough to put up with me. Ulfric was right about one thing. I have been selfish. I've never been good at helping others. And I reckon I never truly will be."

"Morte-"

"Save it chief. Don't get teary eyed all of a sudden. It's so not like you. You're not going to get anywhere with that kind of attitude. You gotta be tough. It's the only way to survive in Skyrim.

"But I can't do this alone. It doesn't matter how strong I am. I need help!"

"You'll find it. You've done it before. Just find better help than me chief. Oh, and preferably no modron's. Or guys on fire."

You open your mouth but stop. He's made up his mind.

"One request chief. Just one. I'm going to remind you before you head up and when you get the chance, you better write this down in your journal before you forget. Save Gerdur. That's all I ask. I don't deserve her, I know. But I got her involved regardless. Please convince her Ulfric threatened her. That's all I ask."

You nod, not entirely sure you can keep your promise.

"Well if that's your decision then-"

"One other thing chief."

"Yeah, what?"

"….. Never mind. You'll just forget again.

…

"So, you want me to do all that!?"

"Hey! I explained this two days ago! It's not my fault you forgot! But it looks like we're reaching the base of the mountain today, and I won't get another chance to tell you. So, get with the program!"

"All right! All right! I'm sorry! Sheesh! Can't believe I'm being scolded by a skull!"

"Trust me chief, if you find that weird, you won't last long."

You grumble. You really must have some bad karma to deserve this.

"Ok, so…. Thanks Mr. skull. I guess I'll see you around. Or not."

"Ok, funny bun. One last thing. And you better damn remember to add this to your journal when you get the chance. Understand?"

You nod, still not certain whether or not you're high on skooma.

"I know you went to Avernus. And I know you met the… skulls there. The mages told me."

You twist your finger in your ears, trying to make sure you heard correctly.

"Yes. You didn't mishear. Go with it. You ought to know that. Anyway, I used to be a part of that pillar berk. On it for centuries…. Until you pulled me off."

You nearly choke. "Wha? Whaaaaaaa?"

"Yeah. You were desperate. You wanted help. A way out of a really bad place. I told you a way you might get out and well….. Look how that turned out."

"Ok, I am so confused."

"The point is I know you. You got me out of a tight spot….. And then helped you out of another one in Helgen." He smirks again. "Fate loves irony, huh?"

"All right. Slow down. I need time to process this."

"Time to go chosen one!" A soldier walks forward. We're taking you up the mountain, now. You can chat with your little friend later."

"Shit. Listen chief. Remember everything I told you. Write it down the instant you get a chance. And keep your promise."

"But but-"

"Keep. Your. Promise."

You just stare. The skull is deadly serious. So, you just sigh and nod.

"All right skull. I'll do this for you. I guess. It's not like I've got anything better to do. Except apparently save the planes and all that good stuff."

"Yeah. Not something I envy you right now." His smile turns sad.

"Well. I wouldn't say it's been fun chief. But it's been memorable…. Good luck out there."

"Yeah sure. Look I'll….. come back for you. Eventually."

"Eventually? You mean if you remember?"

"Uh, sure." You both pause awkwardly.

"Good luck Morte. Wish I could remember you and all the…. Times."

"Trust me. You don't want to remember them. Good luck to you too chief. You'll need it."

And that's how you find yourself marching up the mountain with Galmar something fist and an overly eager Stormcloak with a tail.

"So. So. So."

"So, what? Spit it!"

"So, you're the infamous Dragonborn? It's an honor to meet you! Even under these circumstances."

"Infamous? How exactly am I infamous? Even I don't know about me!"

"I know a great deal about you! You're spoken of in the ranks all the time! The soldiers talk of you as a savior! Destined to restore Skyrim to the nords!"

"Watch it Ralof! That's Ulfric's job! Not this Redguard traitor!"

"Of course, Galmar! I did not mean that! Only that…. Well…."

"Ralof huh? You seem like a nice chap. What are you doing with these geezers?"

"Careful dragonborn. It's a long way down."

"Why, these so-called "geezers showed me kindness and decency, that's why! No Imperial bastard or Jarl would take something of the lower planes, like me! No one but the future high king of Skyrim! He gives the destitute a reason to hope again! That's more than can be said for anyone else in this cold world!"

You raise an eyebrow. "Wow. You really believe in this guy, huh? Who I assume is probably the same guy forcing me up this mountain?"

"He expects a lot out of everyone, dragonborn." The other guy responds, looking up the road. "If he expects this much out of you, it means he finds you capable of such a task. You should be honored."

"Uh…. Thanks… I guess?"

At the top, you encounter the monastery. Just how you remember it. Oh wait. You don't!

"Let me see your restraints." Galmar removes them and has Ralof keep a bow and arrow readied at you.

"You go in, get what you need from them and come right back out. We can't go in. Two of us dare not tangle with the Greybeards. But we will send our whole army in if we need to reclaim you."

"Right, got it. And what exactly is it I need from them again?"

"What did you forget already? A way to dispatch the dragons! Those suck ups in there wouldn't share it with Ulfric while he was a student here. But for you, the Dragonborn. Well, it's time for them to cough up their secrets."

"Right. So how exactly am I going to do that? Sounds like your boss couldn't make him see eye to eye. You really think being Dragonborn will be enough?"

"It must be. We need the Thu'um. Something to fight back. Give the people hope."

"Somehow, I don't think hope is high in supply here." You gulp and step inside.

…

You stop in the main entrance a second. Not noticing anyone, you quickly take the chance to update your leathery journal with the information the talking skull relayed to you.

"Wow. Did I really ride a dragon? And turn into a giant rat? Jesus. How much skooma did I have?"

"Who is that? Who dares to enter these humble premises? Leave now or- Dragonborn!? You return? Have you the horn?"

"You mean this weird ass thing? Sure, why not? Here take it?"

"Careful!" The man rushes forward to grab the horn as you throw it. "You must be careful with that! It is a priceless artifact!"

"Yeah I don't know. I bet some shmuch somewhere would pay something for that. Me? I'll just take knowledge on how to best these dragons we got flying around."

The man stares at you along with the other men who have now entered. Their expressions remain stoic.

"And why I ask would we want to do that?"

"Uh, because I'm the Dragonborn? Or at least that's what they call me. So, I've gotta go slay me some dragons or some shit like that."

The pause does not help your already thin patience. You tap your foot angrily waiting for one of the old men to respond and tell you what you want to hear. When the only one who seems to have a voice finally does, it is not what you want to hear.

"Then it is as I feared. You are just another ruffian."

"Excuse me? I'm the dragonborn! Surely that means more than ruffian."

"That title is no excuse for one's own decisions. You see the Thu'um not as a way of life. But as a means to an end."

"Yes, the survival of the planes! That's the end! That's why I got you the fucking horn isn't it? To prove my worthiness!"

"You are certainly worthy to learn the Thu'um. Your will is clearly strong to have bested the challenges of the tomb. But your heart is interested only in things that can benefit your own selfish desires."

"If it saves the planes, I'm fine with selfish."

"Save the planes?" The man harrumphs. Or whatever you call it.

"Have you considered that the world was not meant to be saved? That Alduin was not meant to be stopped?"

"Uh… no? I'm pretty sure I never once considered that. And I'm pretty sure I don't want the world to end. Nor am I sure do you want it to end. How will you practice your precious shouts then?"

"What we want is irrelevant. If the world is destined to end so be it. Did you learn nothing from the tomb of Windcaller?"

"Maybe? I don't know. I need to look in the journal again."

"He sought to use the Thu'um for his own selfish ends. And it cost him dearly. He realized the Thu'um is designed only for worshiping the gods. That is the way of the voice. To put yourself above petty desires and goals."

"Petty desires like living? You should be a dustman."

He is not amused.

"You are indeed worthy of the title Dragonborn. But only in name. Not in character. Until you return to the path of wisdom, we shall not help you."

You feel your temper flare. A burning sensation runs through the scars in your body.

"So, what the hell was the point of all this? Why did you summon me in the first place!? What am I doing here?"

"I wonder that myself. Why are you here? Clearly not for wisdom."

"Wow. That skull down there was right. You're no good at all!"

"Skull?" The man grips his forehead. "Morte. Of course. Who else could plant such ridiculous ideas in your mind? Did he tell you to come here, grab the knowledge you seek and leave to go galloping around the planes?"

"Actually, some guy called Ulfric Stormcloak told me to do that. Not politely I might add."

"Ulfric and Morte? You're associated with them both? Dragonborn, your life decisions are not impressing us thus far."

You're getting a headache. This isn't helping, and those soldiers could bust in here at any moment. Time to vamoose.

"Guess I just need a different type of teacher then. I hear you've got some kind of escape portal around here. Another way off the mountain that doesn't require a long stroll down the mountain? Ulfric won't be happy if I leave without something for him. And since you aren't going to give that, I'd rather not take that chance."

The old man sighs. He sounds tired. As if he's the one who's been walking all over the continent, fighting dragons!

"There is such a portal. It leads to the town of Helgen. Ironic for you no?"

"Uh, I guess. The skull said it's where we met or something."

"The portal key is the full force of Unrelenting shout. I will give you the final word. Take it into yourself."

The word RAH is implanted into your mind. It's a serious rush. You almost faint.

"Wow. Who needs drugs with shit like that?" The man rolls his eyes.

"To think I saw you as a wise man. The portal lies over there." He points to a shimmer in a nearby room. A gale of cold wind comes through.

"So that's it? You won't help me save the world?"

"I told you Dragonborn. The Thu'um to you is a means to an end. To us, it is life. Until you realize this, we have nothing more to say to each other."

"Humph. Well see you never. I hope. And by the way. I think I see some lice in your beard. May want that looked at."

…

You don't have your journal open when you step through the portal. But the faint spark of déjà vu tells you that this is the town of Helgen.

"Well, holy shit. Who woulda thunk it?"

The town is ruin. The standing buildings are filled with holes and burn scars. At the base of one tower lies a basket filled with decomposed heads.

"I… I remember. I lay here. They were going to kill me and then…."

You look up at the tower overhanging. The perch from which the dragon shouted and brought your whole world crashing down around you.

And saved your life sure. But still…

You look about. You see another skeleton in rags.

"The thief. I… I never even knew him."

Turning to the right, you see a porch. Someone was there. Watching you. You think hard for a moment. A child. A child was watching. You never saw what happened to him, but…..

You suddenly get a chill. A terrible sense of dread. Like something or someone is watching you.

You follow the chill to its source. By where the carts stopped. Where you got out. Where you stepped out to die. You didn't feel this… whatever it is before. Too much was going on. But in the stillness and solitude, you can now sense it.

There's a portal here. No doubt. You can see the shimmer. The ripple in space that signifies it. You don't know where it goes or how even to open it. But you know it's not where you want to be right now.

You run away, through the wreckage until you reach another door on the far side. This too strikes you as familiar.

"Morte. This is where he told me to follow. This leads to…"

You quickly check the journal again, flipping to crucial info.

"We came through here. And went to… Riverwood. That's where he told me to go. To find… someone."

You wander through the caves again. This time alone. No soldiers. No wise-cracking skull. Just you and your thoughts.

You eventually come to a cave in. Rocks block the path ahead of you. Too many to move with your hands.

"FUS DO RAH!"

You blast them aside with your breath and press on. Before long, you see sunlight.

You stand out in the sun. Looking off to the distance you see the Throat of the world containing the useless Greybeards and their purity bullshit. And somewhere further beyond that lies the strange skull who nonetheless you owe your life to.

"I'll make it up to you Morte. I promise. I hope. I think."

Great start you think to yourself. Skyrim is screwed.

 


	20. Bytopia

"So, then I was all: In your face! I can do it ten times better with my mouth, then you could ever do with your hands!"

The skull laughs, then much to his consternation, the guards do not.

"I don't get it."

"Come on you guys! You're supposed to be Nords! Fiery and passionate! Bloodthirsty too! But passionate! Isn't that why you guys are fighting? For the right to pray to some invisible man in the sky?"

"That is part of it. But I don't see what that has to do with your uh… joke."

"Joke? This was the truth! That's how I roll!"

The guards continue to stare.

"You guys, really? I knew Ulfric was a tight ass but making you like this…. This is too cruel."

"Watch your tongue! Don't talk about the true High king that way! You should be honored to serve him! He saved our lives! He could save yours too!"

"Geez… You poor kids. I've been all over the planes. Seen all sorts of puffed up wannabe saviors aka dictators. What makes you think this guy can do any better?"

"Because… He's our only hope."

"Hope? Take it from me kid. That doesn't do you any good."

"Why not? What's wrong with a little faith in good over evil? Why don't you have any? A little might help you smile more!"

Everyone stares at him until his eyes widen in realization.

"Oh. Right. Guess you're always smiling. Sorry." He rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"Because kid, I've been around long enough to know that there's no magic power, no higher super god, or even just really great man coming to help us. It's everyone for themselves. I learned that a long time ago."

"Really? Then what about that man you've been traveling with? The Dragonborn? You've been with him for a while now. Don't you have any hope in him?"

Before Morte can answer, a shout comes from the front of the camp.

"Galmar! What is it? What's wrong? Where is the Dragonborn?"

"Gone! Those bastard Greybeards let him escape! Our one major advantage over the empire! Gone!"

Morte smiles.

"Huh. Guess I might have a little hope in that one.

…

"Uh, hi. I'm looking for Gerdur."

"You! Where's the skull? Too afraid to show himself so he sent you!?"

"Ah, so you must be Gerdur. Right well uh… Hmm, this is really weird."

"No shit, Scarface! You walk right back out that door and tell that coward to stay out of my life, forever!"

"Well, that shouldn't be too hard. You see, he currently has his hands tie- No wait that doesn't make sense. He doesn't have hands."

"Arrgh! Listen, I don't care what he's gotten himself into! He brought it on himself! Forget him! Go live your life! Don't worry about him! Be free! Free!"

"Yeah, somehow I don't think that's going to happen. See I can't remember the last day! Oh, and I have to kill dragons or something crazy like that!"

"Oh, don't be silly! Only the Dragonborn need concern himself with that1 You have nothing to fear!"

You sigh. What does Morte see in this woman?

"Look long story short. Morte was telling the truth in that letter. Ulfric Stormjoke-"

"Stormcloak!"

"Whatever. My journal says he wanted to blackmail Morte into aiding his little crusade. And so, he threatened your life. I was there! I heard it!"

"You heard it?" Her voice barely conceals her anger. "Do you recall that? Or is that something the journal says?"

"Uh. Damn got me there."

"I thought so. Now get out of here! Don't you have better things to do? I thought better of you!"

"Look, this Morte guy… Is that his name? Let me check again. Right that's it. Look he sounds like someone with a lot of flaws. Lechery mainly. But lying about someone threatening your life? Does that sound like something he would do?"

"Why not? He's always been jealous of Ulfric! His passion! His power! His voice!" She smiles.

"Probably of his hands. But look, this journal doesn't lie. I think. I'm sure. Ulfric really did threaten your life if Morte doesn't cooperate. And the journal doesn't say he has. So, for all we know he's still set to take you out."

She laughs, shaking her head.

"Ulfric Stormcloak is dedicated to the survival of Nords. The notion you proclaim is unthinkable!"

"Well yeah. I mean if he's dedicated to their survival in general, doesn't it go to say he'd be willing to make such a sacrifice if it got someone like Morte on his side?"

"Ha! listen to yourself! Someone like Morte! Why would anyone want Morte on their side? I've heard enough! Out! Now!"

"Look, I'm telling you-"

"Out now!"

And so outside you stand. Less than a day on your own without the skull, the modron or even the man on fire and already you've failed your first promise.

"Sigh. Might as well walk on back to Stormcloak and turn myself in."

"Excuse me sir, something wrong? You look like you could use a nap."

"Huh? Yeah sorry maam. But I don't think that's a good idea right now."

"Why not? You can barely stand up straight. You're panting and nearly out of breath. Clearly you've had a long and stressful day. Why not take a moment just for yourself? It may help with whatever task you've got."

"Yeah somehow I don't think you can help with my tasks. I've got a lot of them and frankly they're not easy."

"Well perhaps not all of them. But certainly, I can help hide you."

"Why would I need hiding?"

"Excuse me, maam? We're looking for this man have you seen him?"

You look around the corner and to your shock you see a pair of Stormcloak guards holding a poster with your handsome (it's up to the beholder!) mug on the front.

"What? How did they get ahead that quick!? I just got away earlier today!"

"I saw a carrier bird fly with that package. Guess they caught on to your escape and saw this as the most likely place to go. So how about it?"

You look again towards the guards searching for you. You could probably take them, but eh what the hell? You're feeling lazy.

"Lead the way I guess." You shrug and she smiles.

You make your way into the in, keeping a low profile. Or trying to anyway with your complexion.

"Who's this Delphine? Another street rat? I really don't want to clean up after another one."

"Oh, don't worry. I'll clean for this one. I promise." She grins and leads you into a nearby room.

"Here sit down on this bed. You look like you could rest your legs." She leans forward and eyes you with interest.

"What? Is it the scars? Don't ask how I got them. I haven't a clue."

"Really? Any of them? Imagine that. Can't decide if that's a blessing or a curse."

"I can say it's no blessing to have me around. Most folks have no desire to be near me. So why am I really here?"

She smirks. "Caught on huh? Quick, I like that. Fine. Have you heard of a Thu'um?"

You grip your temples trying to remember where you've heard the word.

"It's like a shot right? A shot of power?"

She stares. "Uh, I think you mean shout."

"Oh, right! Shout! I mean. Yeah. I might have heard something about it. It's something some guys on a mountain say to pass the time or something."

"Really? That's all you can say? Hmm. Would expect more."

"Uh, hello? I've got amnesia remember? And anyway, why would you expect more of me?"

"Well…." She pauses.

"Those scars. The mere ability to walk carrying that burden around. I don't know. I just. I guess you looked like the type who could help a girl out."

"Right. You just looked at this walking zombie and just happened to believe that I was going to be the guy for the job? Seriously?"

"Well, yeah. Look where we are. Not exactly the kind of place to find top-quality warriors, wouldn't you agree?"

"I'm sure you could, you know. Go ask the companions or hire some high-quality mercenary for rent."

"Ah, but this isn't a normal mission. I can't rely on any old soldier. I need someone with unique skills. And someone, who frankly, doesn't have a lot to live for."

"What makes you think I don't have anything to live for? Doesn't the fact I can walk with these scars, say something about my will to live?"

"Perhaps. How strong is your will would you say?"

"I… Uh… I don't remember."

"Figures." You get impatient at that moment.

"Look quit dodging. What do you want from me? You didn't hide me out of the kindness of your heart."

She sighs. "Fine. Straight to business? I need help, and I'm pretty sure you do to. Up North, there's a… problem. Feel like lending a girl a hand? I'll even help you remember whenever there's something you've forgotten."

"Fine. But I also want you to take care of the woman Gerdur. A friend requested it. Apparently Ulfric Stormcloak threatened her life or something."

"Or something? That's informative." She sees you're serious though.

"All right. I can do that. And in return you'll lend a hand."

You frown. Great. Another adventure with some morally dubious character. But it's not like you've got any better leads.

"OK. Guess I'm in. I scratch your back and… well preferably don't scratch mine. It would hurt."

"Aka. You're with me?"

"Yeah, sure. For now. So what kind of problem do you have?"

She smiles apologetically. "Dragon problem."

…

"This is a really stupid idea."

She looks your way with an annoyed expression on her face.

"Hey, I told you we were hunting a dragon, right? You should know that comes with all kinds of risks."

"I know. I know! Gah! Guess that makes me the idiot for ever agreeing to it."

You look back to the dragon circling overhead. Even in the darkness, its silhouette hits you with Déjà vu.

"Just as I suspected. It's circling an old dragon burial site. But what does this mean? Let's take a closer look."

"Sigh. If you say so." The two of you creep closer, doing your best to keep out of sight of the mighty beast. Not so successfully.

"ALIVE BROKEN ONE? THAT IS MOST UNUSUAL. I WOULD EXPECT ONE OF MY BROTHERS TO RID THE WORLD OF YOU."

You both leap up in the air. The beast is looking dead at you while hovering in the air.

"Wait. This thing knows you?"

"Uh…. Maybe? I don't know. I don't have great memory, remember!?"

"YOU DO NOT REMEMBER? SUCH DISRESPECT. I SAVED YOUR LIFE. AM I NOT OWED SOME GRATITUDE?"

"What are you tal-" You pause. The image of the beast flashing through your mind. Where have you seen….?

"Helgen. I just passed through Helgen recently. It was in ruins."

"BEAUTIFUL. A MONUMENT TO OUR RETURN. I THOUGHT TO DISPATCH YOU AT YOUR WEAKEST." He sniffs at you, seeming to grimace. "IT APPEARS YOU HAVE SWALLOWED THE SOULS OF SEVERAL OF MY BROTHERS. SO CRUEL. BUT WHAT SHOULD I EXPECT FROM MORTAL SAVAGES?"

"Who are you calling a savage, fiend?" Delphine suddenly speaks up. "Why don't I show you the savagery you've inflicted on others, worm!"

"Uh, lady? Seriously?"

You try to pull her back. But it isn't necessary as she pulls back from the sudden introduction of the shadows.

The strange figures fly in the sky, circling the dragon himself. They hover in midair for a moment, before one settles down into the grave. Upon its contact with the ground, a blast of light arises…. And from the ground, another dragon emerges."

"Alduin?"

That's the only part of the conversation you can make out. The rest is gibber gabber between the two ancient reptiles. Meanwhile the shadows continue circling, their eyes trained on you.

"Uh, they're looking at you."

"Huh. What?" The reptiles indeed have their eyes trained on you.

"Oh sorry. Did you say something? I was admiring your uh..lovely friends there."

"YOU DO NOT EVEN KNOW OUR TONGUE DO YOU? SUCH ARROGANCE. TO DARE TAKE FOR YOURSELF THE NAME OF DOVAH."

"Dovah?" Delphine looks at you. "So, you really are…"

"SAHLOKNIR." He says something else that you can't make out. Not like you'd remember it anyway.

"Get ready. Looks like they're going to attack."

And then the large black one flies off with all his shadow buddies.

"Hey wait! Where are you going? Get back here coward!" Delphine shouts off after him.

"No, no! Don't wait up! Please! Fly away!"

"You are Dovahkiin?" The dragon sounds unbelieving of his own words. "I thought you would be somewhat beautiful by mortal standards. But you are by far the ugliest creature I have ever laid eyes on. How does a beast like you live at all?"

You flush red and shout. But not in the common tongue. But in dragon tongue. And with that you fly across the field and straight into a rock.

The dragon and Delphine stare. Unsure what to say. You pull yourself off the ground and turn around slightly dazed.

"Ow. Right. Sorry. What I meant to say was YOL!"

You release a shot of fire into the beast's face, causing it to rise into the air and scream in pain.

"Wish you did that first!" Delphine losses an arrow at the beast.

"Memory problems!" You shout back and run for cover.

"My voice has been silent for too long! Now I finally unleash it-"

One of your partner's arrows nails him in the eye, shutting him up.

"Now, let's see if this works."

You clench your fist and from the vortex within emerge blue skeletons.

"Bonemen? You can summon that? Why didn't you tell me? Wait. Don't tell me. You forgot?"

You grin. "Now you're catching on." You point at the dragon and your loyal deadmen fire their own weapons.

"He's coming back! Move zombie!"

"Hey, don't call me-" You're drowned out by the beast unleashing his fury upon you.

"Ha! I see the nature of man has become even weaker! The planes will collapse before our strength!"

Ironically, it's the dragon who collapses as a literal meteor shower rains down from the sky and knocks him to the ground.

"Wow! What the hell?"

"Meteor Storm!" She grins. "Surprised a student of the College of Winterhold doesn't know that one."

"Dir Dovahkiin! I will- Hmm?"

You and your army of Bonemen rush forward and begin lodging your weapons in the creature's flesh. When he tries to retaliate, Delphine hits him with a strange-colored orb. You keep this going for a time, and eventually the beast relents.

"No. No. And I had just tasted life again. I never even got to read A Hypothetical Treachery…"

The beast succumbs, and you are filled with a familiar fullness as energy flows from his body into yours.

"Hey thanks guys. I thought all skeletons were annoying but… Guys?" Your Bonemen have disappeared. Their purpose fulfilled.

"Incredible. Our reports were true. You are Dragonborn. You of all people."

You turn to see Delphine watching you with awe and wariness. You caught that last bit well though.

"Your reports. You've been following me? So, you didn't hire just any stranger walking through town."

"No. No I did not. We've gotten reports from around the continent of a scarred man with… strange companions fighting dragons. You matched the description. But honestly, I still wasn't sure. I mean… Look at you."

You frown. "Since I'm feeling content with that dragon, I'll let that pass. But I believe you owe me some answers."

She looks you up and down one more time and nods.

"Yes. Yes. I suppose I do. Why don't we take a walk Dragonborn? Find somewhere more private to discuss these matters?"

"Not a bar please! I've been in at least one and according to this journal, it had a man on fire!"

"Oh no worry about that kind sir. I had somewhere else in mind. A lot prettier, but just as trippy." She smiles.

…

"Wow, what the hell?" after stepping through the portal you stare around in awe.

You reckon you've been in some strange places, based on the contents of your journal. But you doubt you've ever been somewhere like this.

You're standing on a grassy field stretching out for miles in every which direction. And above you lies another field. Hanging upside down!

"Impressive huh? Welcome to the twin paradises of Bytopia! Dragonborn? Hello? You there?"

"I…. Am I on skooma?"

She giggles. "I assure you, you are not. You are merely observing one of the great wonders of the planes."

"By wonder, you mean, it's a wonder this place can exist at all right?"

"I suppose so. Yeah. Trust me though. It's as real as your scars."

"Uh. Ok. Thanks for that clarification. Like I really needed confirmation that these scars are real. In fact, just now, I've been pinching myself, to ensure that I'm not a figment of my own imagination!"

"All right. No need to be snarky Dragonborn. I'm here to help. Up this mountain here. Our meeting place is on the other side."

"Excuse me? You mean the layer floating over us? How does that work?"

"These are the planes! What you see is rarely what you get. Come on! Just follow me. I haven't let you down yet, have I?"

"Maybe. Memory problems, remember?"

But with nowhere else to go, you follow and climb one of the mountains connecting the two layers. You expect to be climbing to your death. But as you near the top, your center of gravity changes and you feel yourself being pulled towards the upper layer.

You gasp as you feel your feet fall towards the sky. Gripping the edge, you upwards between your dangling legs at Delphine's grin.

"First time is always the best. What? Don't look at me like that. Moments like this are what make life worth living."

"Some life," you grumble. But you obey and begin climbing down the mountain. Well technically up since you're moving towards the upper layer, but down the mountain. Does that make any sense?

You reach the ground and find yourself sticking to the upper layer. Beneath you (or maybe above you?) the previous layer covers the sky (or is that the abyss?)

"Nice job so far. Now this way please. The Revolutionary league headquarters are this way."

"The what? Oh boy. What have I gotten myself into?"

What you've gotten yourself into apparently is a strange clearing of decrepit houses and strewn about with all sorts of people and creatures. They all observe you with suspicion but their apparent leader with admiration.

"Delphine!" One woman runs forward. "Is this the one? This… man. Is he a man?"

You raise an eyebrow. "Uh, excuse me?"

"Yes Bedai-Lihn. This is the Dragonborn. I saw him battle and absorb of one of those bastard's souls myself! He is the one who will help upset the tyrannical order in Skyrim and beyond!"

"That's right! Wait, what? I'm taking out the dragons. Isn't that what the Dragonborn does?" The woman Bedai-Lihn looks to you with a smirk.

"Of course! And that's why we have searched for you! The dragons have found a way to return form the grave. And now they seek to impose their dictatorship on the world once more! We the Revolutionary League have long prepared for such a moment. And now our moment is at hand! We are here to aid you in your quest Dragonborn! The Greybeards would have you let the end of the world happen on its own. But nah, we say! It is our job to-"

"Ok ok. Lot of words there lady. Give me a moment. So, bottom line you want to help me bring down the dragons? If that's the case, I guess I'm in. It's not like I have a lot of other allies out there."

"You refer to the skull and his desired woman?" Delphine nods. "We can do our best to assure her safety. As for him well….. that may take some more effort, but we can find a way to free him from Ulfric's control."

You shrug. "Yeah I guess so. But one other thing I'd like some help with to make this arrangement work."

"Your memory and scars?" She takes your hand in her own and examines your damaged tissue. "That might be a little more difficult. I've never heard of someone with your condition. Still, I know some pretty smart people. I'll notify them of your problem. See if they can pull up anything on a Redguard who matches your description."

"Think you could leave out the bit about me being half dragon or whatever?"

"Of course." She winks. "Wouldn't want to give away our ace in the hole just yet. Can't have the Thalmor catching wind of our plan."

"The Thalmor? Those stuck up pointy-eared folks? What do they have to do with anything?"

"Besides being our main enemy? They have a hand in pretty much anything in this land. If dragons are coming back to life, I bet they've got a hand in that too."

"So, what are we going to do? Take them to court? Get a legal confession?"

"Ha!" Bedai-Lihn guffaws. "Legal? We're the Revolutionary League! We do what's right! Not what's legal!"

"Isn't that kind of an oxymoron?"

"Look, don't worry your amnesiac little head about all that. You'll probably forget anyway. You just obey Delphine here like a good little Lim-Lim and she'll handle the rest, ok?"

"Sorry, what? You want a pet? Not happening pal!"

Delphine looks at her associate annoyed.

"I apologize for her words. She gets carried away in her work sometimes. You are not a pet or servant. You are an acquaintance who shares a common goal with us. All we offer is this place as a sort of safe haven and our aid in besting the dragons. And if possible the Thalmor with them. Does that sound sufficient?"

You sigh, rubbing your head. This is too much to take in right now. Especially since you're having this conversation while hanging upside down over another plane!

"Yeah sure. I'm in. I guess. Can I please have somewhere to rest? I don't think I've had any for some time."

"Of course. Please follow this Modron here to a spare bed. I think I have a way to get the truth from the Thalmor. I just need to call up an old contact. In the meantime, please take some leisure. I'd say you've earned it."

"Don't I ever." You follow the cube through the crowd. All of them a strange assortment of creatures. All of them watching you. All of them whispering.

"What is that? Is that a zombie worker? Are we following the Dustmen model now?"

You ignore it and finally reach the bed. You want to collapse into it but suddenly think of a question for the Modron.

"You guys call yourselves the Revolutionary league right? What for?"

"Definition. Revolutionary league or Anarchists are-"

"Woah. Woah. Hold on. Anarchists?"

"Correct. Revolutionary league or Anarchists are dedicated to the abolishment of a dictatorial society. The definition of such a society varies between members however, frequently leading to skirmishes, and on occasion structural hierarchies nearly indistinguishable from a dictatorial society itself."

"Anarchists. I leave behind a talking skull and get a bunch of anarchists." You grip your head in your hand. "Oh, sweet Lady of pain! Will this torment ever end?"

 


	21. The Brothel

"Roggvir, you helped Ulfric Stormcloak escape this city following the murder of High King Torygg. By letting the king's murderer leave, you betrayed the people of Solitude. Have you anything to say in your defense?"

The man with bound hands stands and looks out over the crowd. If he's scared he's not showing it.

"It wasn't murder! Ulfric challenged the king. He beat the High king in fair combat! That's the custom of Skyrim and all Nords! Or have you forgotten?"

The boos and calls for his head suggest that yes, many people have forgotten.

"Who does he think he is? Talking so high and mighty? Like he's abo- Woah man! What the hell happened to you?" The man looks you over with wide eyes.

"Rabid cow," you respond.

"Rabid…. Cow? Must've been some cow."

You grimace. You're going to need a better cover story. You turn back to the man just in time to see his head pushed down to the block.

"I go to Sovngarde. Bitches!"

And off with his head. The crowd mutters their approval and begins to disperse.

You meanwhile just stand there and look at the headless corpse. That could have been you. If not for the dragon. Irony?

"Uh, hello there mister. You uh… You look like you could use some help. Want some?" The man stares at you with worry.

"Not really. I've been like this for as long as I can remember. Who just lost his head?"

"Oh, the scum who helped Ulfric Stormcloak escape after killing the High King. He had it coming for some time. Aren't you so thrilled you just happened to arrive in time to see him executed?"

"…..Sure. Why not. Lovely mess and all that."

"Mess? He helped make this mess! He absolutely deserved it! Just as I'm sure you deserve some help! Seriously, you don't hurt?"

"You get used to it. It's actually better now. Because before this, I had to also put up with a perverted skull, a man on fire, and a cube who talked to his crossbows."

He stares at you obviously thinking, wtf?

"But if you're serious about help, I could really use some help finding some berk called… uh what was his name? Mordor? Moria? Mal something."

"Oh, you mean Malborn, the elf? Yeah you'd probably find him in the Brothel."

"The brothel? Oh, so he's into play huh?"

"Well, yes. But not that kind of play you see."

"What do you mean? A brothel offers one kind of play, right?"

"Most brothels yes. But not this kind. We have a very special kind of brothel here in Solitude."

You roll your eyes. "A brothel's a brothel. How different could this one be?"

…

"Ok, so yeah. This is a little different."

You may have amnesia but even you know the concept of a brothel. A place where men down on life and penis size go to seek the company of scantily clad women who pretend to like them and tell them how special and loved they are. Oh, also where they have sex. Lots and lots of sex, and transmitted disease. You don't see any of that here.

Sure, they've got the women with some private bits showing. But you don't see any rough housing. Not physically anyway. All you see is talking. Loads and loads of talking. And not the same kind either. Everyone has a different topic going on. Some are just engaged in casual chats. Others are literally yelling and cursing at their guests.

"Ah welcome good sir! Might I help you with your…. Scars?" The woman looks you up and down.

"No no that's all right. I'm just looking for a guy named Malborn."

"Malborn? Hmm, that's a regular customer. He doesn't make his name well known. How do you know him?"

You pause wondering how to answer the question without giving too much about the anarchists.

Oh right. You're working for anarchists. Yay!"

"An old friend wants a hand. Our mutual friend."

"Right…. Well he pays well for our services. So, I can't just give his location away to anyone. At least not anyone without a sense of sensate potential."

"A sense of what?"

She smiles.

"I want you to speak to the 8 students in the brothel. Originally it was 9. But our dear Nenny Nine-Eyes left to practice magic."

That name sends a sense of déjà vu, but you can't quite place it.

"Speak and do what exactly?"

"Do what a sensate does! Experience! Learn the messages of the multiverse!"

"Is that really what you do here? Seems most of the guys here are just around to talk to the pretty girls."

"Oh, I'm sure more than a few. Probably quite a bit actually." She frowns a bit. "But the girls something from that as well. They gain the experience of engagement with someone who wants to get up in their grill."

You stare at her unblinking. Did this nice old lady just say what you think she said?

"Right, so…. Guess I should start with…"

"Me, perhaps?"

"You? But you're not one of the students, right?"

"Oh, so you have to be a student to engage with interesting men?" She looks you up and down with a smirk. "You'll only tell how you got those scars to someone younger and bustier?"

"No no! I mean… Geez. Of course, I'll talk. I mean why not? Not like I'm going to remember any of this in 24 hours."

Her eyebrow raises. "Won't remember? What do you mean?"

"Err, nothing important. All right. So, what would you like to do Ms. uh?"

"Yves. Yves Tale-Chaser."

"Tail-Chaser? Why do you chase tails? You like to see them wag?"

"Not those kind of tails silly! I'm talking about stories! Memories! Gripping events that stick with us all our days!"

"Oh, so you want a story is that it? Ok, how about this. A priest, a mage, and a thief walk into a bar-"

"That's not the kind of story I mean!" Despite her frustrated tone she's clearly amused. It must be quite the experience to talk with a scarred dolt like you.

"I want a story. A real story. How about something that happened to you? With wounds like that, I'll bet you have all sorts of fascinating things to share."

You try to rack your brain for something. You suppose you could recount the execution you just saw but well… Yeah, no.

Your journal. That's right. Your journal! Maybe you can tell her something from that. Maybe that skull- Yeah, no. Don't say anything from the skull either.

"Ok, uh… Would you like to hear the story of… Let's see. Let's see. What doesn't give away too much…. Oh, I know! Here's one. The story of my time in the uh…. Great Foundry in Windhelm."

You read it partly because you yourself don't remember what happened. With only one day, you need to remember only the truly important stuff and can't afford to memorize an entire journal. As you read the particulars of this story, you find yourself just as fascinated as the woman soaking it up.

"Thank you. That was a remarkable tale. Love, tragedy, and drama. Thank you for sharing that."

"Not a problem. I was sharing it with both of us actually."

"Hmm. Indeed. That is the purpose of the multiverse. Experience."

"Uh, I thought you were looking for the purpose."

"For most maybe. But to me, the journey is the destination."

"Yeah I guess. So uh, thanks for that. Now who should I talk to next? Oh, how about that one in white? She seems nice."

"Well she is but-" Too late. You're already walking her way. Eager to talk.

At least until you realize she's mute and doesn't know sign language. Not that you don't either. Oh well, one down. Eight to go.

"Excuse me? What troubles you? You seem confused?"

You turn to see a pale-skinned woman in a blue dress looking you over. She smiles, not seemingly disturbed by your scars at all.

"Oh well I uh. I don't know I guess I'm kind of new here."

"New hmm? Oh, how about a game then?"

"A game? What kind of game?"

"How about a debate? Hmm? I argue one side and you argue the other?"

"…..Ooookkkk. That's a random thing to ask. But what the hell."

"Wonderful. Today let us argue the true form of Sithis! I argue why his form is that of a mudcrab, and you argue why he has no form at all. Ready? Go!"

"Wait what? Syphilis is a disease!"

You realize two things as the argument goes on. One, that Sithis is a god. Two, that you've had an argument like this before. You get a sense of déjà vu.

" _But that's… That's impossible! If that's true.."_

_You feel yourself smiling. "Yes, it means you don't really exist."_

_The man vanishes just like that. No sound. No drop of blood. Just gone._

You think you can apply what you remember to this argument. It takes some time, but you begin to figure out blatant explanations for the impracticality of a being like Sithis to use any sort of physical form at all. Let alone a crab!

She grins with some element of surprise in her face. "I must admit, you're very skilled. You give the impression of a vicious brute. But it hides the mind of a true intellectual. You would make a fine student here."

"I'd love to I think. Perhaps it would give me less of a headache. But as it stands I've actually got some business to take care of."

"Oh dear. Everyone so busy these days. I wish I could leave sometimes. But because my heart no longer bel- Wait, sir?"

You've already begun walking away towards a gray-skinned woman with a purple shirt. You don't know what it is but something about her intrigues you.

"So, you're the 3rd student I take it?"

"3rd? Whatever do you mean? My name is Kesai-Serris!"

"Oh uh. I just mean that you are a student right, maam?"

"Of course! What else would you think I am?"

Forgetting your manners for a moment, you ask something insensitive. "So, what are you exactly?"

She stares at you with raised eyebrows. "Whatever do you mean? Isn't it obvious?"

"I uh. I guess?" You pause. "What are you?"

She sighs and spreads her hands. "A woman! Duh! I mean look at me! Don't I just exude femininity?"

You shrug. "Can't argue with that. So, you're a sensate huh?"

"Thank you for using that term. Most just refer to me as prostitute. Which I suppose is technically true. But it also feels a bit demeaning don't you agree?"

"Sure. I can kind of see that. So, every pros- Err, sensate here seems to have their own shtick with what they offer. So, what do you like to uh… experience?"

"Dreams! I find myself fascinated with the concept of dreams! Especially since I have such… bad experience with them."

"That's unfortunate. I suppose I should be grateful I don't get dreams."

"You don't dream?" She places her hand to her mouth. "That's terrible! As much as they drive me insane, I can't imagine a life without them! Are you in pain? Something on your mind?"

"Well yeah kind of. Specifically, the lack of things on it. Like, I can't remember the last 24 hours."

"Amnesia?" She touches your shoulder tenderly. "Surely that will wear off over time?"

"Not according to this journal. Apparently this has been going on for some time."

"Truly? Intriguing. How do you feel knowing this?"

"I feel… A lot of things. Frightened. Confused. But also intrigued as you say. Do you know of any similar incidents where the individual instantly forgets all memories within 24 hours?"

"No. No, I've never heard of anything that resembles that. You're quite a unique member of society. I don't know how to address it fully but." She pauses. "Here let me check something. Do you mind?"'

"No. Just be careful please. I don't want any more scars."

She nods and begins moving her hand all over your body, like she's looking for something in particular. A few men guests can't help but notice and whistle.

"Oh please. This is a center for knowledge and experience. Go to a red-light district for other pleasures."

"Any luck?"

She keeps it up for another minute. "It feels like… like you have something missing. I can't explain it. But there's an emptiness there. It's like nothing I've felt before."

"Wow. That's uh. That's something. So how do I fix that?"

"Well first you'd have to discover what exactly is missing. But to do that, you'd need the skill of someone much more skilled with the body than me. Perhaps even someone with mastery over the soul itself."

"What!? But where am I going to find someone like that?"

She shrugs sadly. "I wish I could help you. Really I do. In honesty, you'll probably need the help of someone powerful. Very powerful. Beyond that I cannot say."

"Ok, so. I'm missing something. I don't know what. But I have to get it back. Well at least I know to look for something. Even if I don't know what."

"Truly sorry. I wish I could do more."

"Well since she can't do anything for you, can you do something for me?"

A woman in a green dress places her hands around your shoulder to get your attention.

"Uh a patron, or a prostitute?"

"Ahem." Kesai-Serris looks at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Err. I mean, student. You're another student?"

"Yes! And I was wondering if a handsome stud like you could help me out with my normal perfect marriage!"

"Uh, why would you want help with a normal perfect marriage? That makes no sense."

"Oh dear. Here we go." Kesai-Serris rolls her eyes. "Please Juliette. Don't drag another customer into this."

"Well why not? Don't we want customers to gain experiences as well?"

"Yes, but within reason."

"Oh please! Please good sir! It's nothing serious! I just need to have an affair with you!"

You twist your fingers in your ears, making sure you've heard right.

"Sorry? An affair? As in you want to engage in err, recreation behind your lover's back?"

"Exactly! Could you please help me with that? It would be a huge help!"

"Right. And why would you want to cheat on your partner? This sounds more like a job for therapists."

"Oh boy. Here we go." Kesai-Serris places her head in her hands.

"Because it's too perfect! There's no drama! No excitement! All my friends have fascinating stories to tell! Hate! Tension! Abuse! But me? Nothing! It's all too perfect! I hate it!"

"Uh, ok." You begin to question the sanity of this woman. Kesai-Serris steps between the two of you.

"Juliette, perhaps you could use another shot of this fine wine over here?"

"Wait hold on! I'm serious! Has it been a long time since he's done it? Is he fragile from his scars? Don't worry! I'll be gentle! Sir? Sir? Where are you sexy corpse?"

You sneak away, throwing a gracious smile to Kesai-Serris. That's 4 students down. 4 left to go.

You think about her words. What is it you're missing? You feel an emptiness. But of what? What's the missing piece? And how can you replace it?

…

You're drawn to a red head with some really strong perfume. You can't help it. It's so damn good! You find yourself envious. Someone like her could attract anyone she wanted. All you can do is scare them away.

"Boy that skull Morte sounds like he would be in heaven here. He'd probably want to stay here! Wonder if I'd mind."

"Excuse me?" The woman has noticed you and is looking with concern. "Are you all right? Do you require medical aid? Those wounds look serious."

"Eh they probably are. But they haven't slowed me down that much to be honest. So yeah I'm doing ok. I think. Actually, I guess I'm trying to figure that out."

"Oh dear. May I help you?"

"Uh, I don't think you can remove them. I'm pretty sure most doctors couldn't remove them either."

"No perhaps not. But I could try to make you a little more… presentable. Oh wait, no I can't! I'm sorry! Not without my perfume!"

"What perfume? I can smell perfume on you. It's fantastic."

"Yes, this stuff is very good. But it's nothing compared to the original. That stuff. Oh my. It's blessed by the gods themselves!"

"Really? Which ones?"

"Oh, not literally. But I've never smelt anything like it anywhere in the planes. It's truly a work of art!"

"Ok, so where exactly would I find it?"

"Well uh I would." She sighs and looks at you with sadness. "I guess I would start with Marissa. And I can't believe I'm saying that."

"Why? Who's Marissa?"

You soon wish you hadn't asked.

"So rude to spy on a lady. Even if it is dark."

"Sorry uh, maam. I'm not here to spy. I'm just looking for Vivian's scent."

"And why would I know where that is? Damn fools. Can you please not bother me with such absurd questions?"

"Look I just want to know, and I'll leave you alone. Is it really that difficult?"

"Uggh! Everyone wants something for nothing. I don't know try Adder-Tongue. Just so you know. If you think I'm a bitch, wait till you meet her."

You sigh. Is it too much to ask to meet some normal people?

"Kneel insect! Bow in supplication! Lick my feet!"

Morte would definitely like this chit. He would practically beg her to smash his head in.

"What are you looking at corpse? Don't stare! It costs 30 copper pieces for me to smash your face in. So, come on. Pay up!"

"Uh I'm not actually here for that. I just wanted to ask-"

"My opinion on the war? Is that what?"

"What? No. I just want-"

"Just want my head is that it? You one of Ulfric's spies? Here to catch me?"

"Woah, calm down lady."

"Calm down? Calm down maggot? You forget who you've been talking to? Guess you get this for free!"

She knees you in the groin. You cringe in pain and out of habit you hit her back.

"Bitch," she screams. "Cockmaggot! Bulbous buffoon! Narcotic nitwit!"

A torrent of curse words spring from her mouth as the two of you wrestle. A crowd has gathered and begun cheering you on. Even a few of the prostitutes.

"Fight1 Fight! Fight!"

"Hey hey hey! What gives! She doing that for free? Not fair ugly!"

"Oh, please Malborne! He earned it! You still have to cough up your money though!"

"Wait, Malborne? You're Malborne? Delphine sen-"

"Shh!" He covers your mouth and helps you to your feet. "Not here! Come on let's vamoose!"

"Hey where you going, barbequed blasted bastard? Get back here!"

…

"So, you're Delphine's contact? Really? You?"

"What? You don't think I'm up to it?"

"Well I certainly have some doubts after your little performance in the brothel! At least she could have picked someone easy on the eyes! Not a frigging zombie! I mean I'm sorry pal, but you are going to stick out like a dragon!"

"Yeah well I tried explaining that to Delphine. But she was insistent. So, I guess you're stuck with me and that Bedai-Lihn lady."

"Bedai-Lihn is the other one? Jesus! Delphine really has poor judgement of character."

You smirk. "On that we can agree. So, what exactly were you doing in the brothel anyway? You don't look like the type to show interest in philosophical debates. Also…" You sniff the air. "What's that amazing smell? It's fantastic! Is that your scent?"

"Err never mind that. You look like you could use a bit of tidying up, however. Something to distract form all the um…. Scars."

"How about a bed? I could sure use the rest."

"Eh, I don't know. The party's tomorrow night and we have a lot to discuss. You've got a lot to remember."

"All the more reason to save it for tomorrow. Seeing how I'll just forget it in a few hours."

"What? Come on it's not that hard to recall.."

"No, I mean I'll forget no matter what I do. Every 24 hours I forget everything. Better to do it tomorrow so it remains fresh."

The elf looks at you astonished. "So, Delphine choose someone who has no social skills, terrible looks, and mother fucking amnesia!?" He grabs a mug of ale and scarfs it down, his hands shaking.

"Pretty much. So, shall we call it a night?"

He stares at you, like he's hearing a crazy person.

Sitting in your room the next day, reading through your journal and trying to figure out why you are where you are, you get a knock on the door.

"Oh, hello uh… maam?"

"Yves Tale-Chaser. Have you forgotten already?"

"Uh…" You flip through the journal. "Oh right. Head of the brothel. Sorry about that mess yesterday."

"Oh, not at all! It was an experience! And that's what matters! I thank you for that! I also thank you for finding Vivian's missing scent!"

"What? Huh?"

"Oh yes! It may have been accidental, but your acquaintance Malborn turned out to have the scent with him the whole time! The unflattering pervert! I dare say you need better friends!"

"Right… I'll keep that in mind. So how can I help you?"

"Well as a reward, and as paid for by Mr. Malborn, I've agreed to help make you a little more presentable for tonight's soiree. Can't attend a party hosted by the Thalmor looking like you just got back from battle can you?"

"Uh… No, I guess not."

"Well it will be a challenge, but we will do what we can. By the way, have you thought about my question? There's no further need for it, but I'm curious all the same to your answer."

"Answer? To what question?"

You look through the journal again.

"Oh, that's right. You know I thought about this apparently. But of course, forgot. Says here I only talked to 7 students, but you wanted me to find all 8. I never found an 8th."

"Really? Are you sure? No other students?"

You look at her strangely. "Oh, I get it. Is this one of those trick questions?"

She continues to smile. "Think. Who would the 8th student be you think?"

You look through the journal trying to find a reasonable answer. You think long and hard as you walk back to the brothel. When you finally arrive, she turns to you again.

"This sounds crazy, but I think the 8th student was… is me?"

She tilts her head. "Not that I disagree, but why do you say that?"

"Because the point of this place is to gain experiences. That's the whole goal for a sensate right? And well…. I certainly had an experience."

She nodded pleased.

"Oh, my dear, you're going to blow those stuck up nobles away tonight!"

Blow them away with my ugliness, you think.

"Come now. Let's get you looking proud and spiffy! We'll make a sensate out of you yet!"

"Yeah. Yippee."

 


	22. Dak'kon

"Ah my friend! So good to see you again!"

You sigh. "Bedai-Lihn right? You came to. Awesome. Life is complete."

"Oh, don't be like that! We're all friends here."

"Uh, I'm pretty sure you and the Thalmor are not friends. Isn't that why we're here? To spy on them because they're not friends?"

"Hmm. True that corpse."

"I'm not a corpse. Haven't you noticed? I've been pampered."

She guffaws. Several of the Thalmor turn your way.

"Would you mind not drawing attention to us? Couldn't you, I don't know, act more proper?"

"More proper? You mean shut my mouth and nod at our respectable overlords?" She snorts. "Sure thing, boss. Whatever you say. Oh wait. You're not my boss! Delphine is. And she says I lead this mission. So, I say shut your hole and do what you're told."

"My my. Such aggressive words. Clearly you're in need of our fine hospitality."

The tall woman before you smiles politely, though you can see a hint of condescension. Laced with a hint of disgust at your appearance.

"Ah lady Elenwen. It's an honor to make your acquaintance. We've heard so much about-"

"Elenwen? Who's that?"

Bedai-Lihn elbows you in the stomach. The elf woman stares at you with raised eyebrows.

"Sorry for my friend here. Someone spiked a glass of water and he hasn't had time to properly revitalize himself."

"Yes. That would explain a great deal. What of those scars? I appreciate him making the effort to conceal them. But those are serious. However did you receive them? Are you a veteran?"

"Excuse me miss Elenwen. We're out of alto."

"What? Idiot! Don't bother me with that in front of the guests!"

"My apologies maam. I meant no disrespect."

"And yet you showed it." She turns back to you with an apologetic smile.

"You see the reason we need to remain in this land? Such poor help!" She shakes her head. "Ah well. I must see to that. I suppose we'll get the chance to talk later." To your relief she struts away, head held high.

"Thanks for that Malborn. Saved this fool's ass here."

"As the Dragonborn, I take offense to that."

She snorts. "Berk, I don't care what you take offense to. You almost screwed up the mission! How could you forget goddamn Elenwen?"

"Memory problems. I believe I told your boss."

Malborn shakes his head from behind the bar.

"See, this is why we generally don't hire agents with poor memory skills. Especially one that sticks out like a zombie in a crowd. This is a disaster waiting to happen."

"Thanks for the show of confidence. But I'm not here to look pretty. We just need to find what they know about the dragons and get out."

"Easier said than done. You're going to need to get out of this room to find anything useful. For that, you'll need a distraction."

"Oh, that should be easy. Just let the deader get everyone's eye and I'll search the place."

"And how would I get out? Wouldn't they take me prisoner once they realized you vanished?"

"Not my problem berk. Consider it a necessary sacrifice. We'll dedicate a paragraph to you."

"Not to the Dragonborn! If you leave me behind, you're all pretty much fucked. So maybe a little consideration, hmm?"

"Yeah, still don't see how we'd be fucked without you. It's not like you've done all that much so far."

"Bartender! One on the house!"

"Oh. Of course, general Tullius! A bottle of our best for the general of the Thalmor forces!"

Bedai-Lihn sucks in her breath and whirls you about the other way. You only get a brief glimpse of the general. His expression tells you how much he'd rather be anywhere else.

"You said you were at Helgen right?"

"That's what the journal says. Why?"

"That guy was there too. Maybe don't catch his attention hmm?"

You raise your eyebrows. This was one of the assholes who tried to take your head? You feel the strongest urge to return the favor. But your sensible side prevails.

"What a repulsive creature. I must express my disappointment with Elenwen's recent taste. Who do you think you are to march in here so unsightly?"

You turn to the very rude woman. You get it. You're ugly. That doesn't mean everyone has to keep mentioning it!

"Oh shit. Don't speak berk. This is Maven Black-Briar. Don't get on her bad side. I mean it. Try and remember that at least."

"Would you mind not talking about me in hushed tones? Out with it! What nerve to bring something dead into the hall of the living!"

While your partner struggles for a response, you find your mind drifting to a different, yet similar setting.

You don't remember the argument exactly. But you remember you did not solve the situation with logic. Rather by ass-kissing.

No. Not quite that. Yes, kissing ass is effective. But too much and they'll think you're someone they can walk all over. It's important to make them recognize your worth.

Not something she sees at the moment as she stares at you.

"I'm sorry my features aren't pleasing to your senses maam. Though I would think an important figure such as yourself would realize not to throw away potential assets so quickly based solely on appearances."

Everyone is surprised at your surprisingly thought out response.

"Oh indeed? Please elaborate please corpse. And do make it fast. I am as you say an important figure."

"I'm just saying that I believe Lady Elenwen's taste for company is rather good. After all, she invited you did she not? Hence, if she had the poor taste to invite me, what does that say about you and the rest of her guests?"

She raises her eyebrows at that. Barely containing her anger. Ok. Maybe a little too far. But what an arrogant bitch! She deserves it!

"You… have some nerve. I'll give you that much."

"And common sense I'd say dear Black-Briar. You're not suggesting I'm poor taste, are you?"

The woman's eyes widen as she turns to the old coot with the incredibly long beard… and the goddamn skull in his hand. Not the strangest thing in the planes perhaps. But at this party? Even with you around? Yeah.

Black-Briar (What kind of name is that?) looks like she's going to shit herself. And for you it's a welcome sight.

"No! Not at all lord Lothar! My comment was for this…. Man? Is he a man? This guest here. No one else!"

"Strange. His logic sounded pretty genuine. You questioned the taste of the woman who invited us all here. If she was wrong in her decision to invite him, was she not also wrong to invite me?"

It gives you pleasure to see the arrogant woman quiver. You get the sense she isn't used to having someone stand up to her this way. But this old man seems to do the trick. She's not the only one he seems to bother though. Bedai-Lihn seems on edge too.

"Perhaps it is your taste that lacks Ms. Black-Briar. Perhaps I should look elsewhere for impressive skulls. Clearly even yours is not worth my time."

She went pale while the man turned your way.

"I thank you for showing this worm's true colors. You seem like an… interesting specimen. What is your business here?"

"A representative for Hammerfell lord Lothar." Bedai-Lihn answers herself but shrinks back when the old man glares at her.

"I was asking my friend here. Not you. You either have terrible hearing or poorly cranial lobe. Either way, I would advise your friend to replace you with a more competent aid."

"I hear you loud and clear sir. I was actually thinking the exact same thing. She's been nothing but a pain in my ass!"

Both women do not give you pretty smiles. It makes your day.

"You do seem to know something about pain. Those scars are hardly small. Perhaps you might have more to offer than the usual filth at these gatherings."

Keeping up the lessons learned from your memory, you nod respectfully and feign an interested face.

"Maybe. What is it a man of your stature requires?"

"Skulls. The fresher the better. Have you any you wish to trade?"

You pause. Your fake smile still plastered on your face, as you struggle to process the statement just uttered.

"Sorry. What?"

"Skulls. I am what you might call a collector. I deal in the harvest and maintenance of skulls. If someone brings me a skull of sufficient value, I might even offer them something in return. It's a rather good deal and there's no drawbacks to the collector. You'll find I am far more trustworthy than most traders of my position and power." He flashes a glance to Black-Briar who still seems shaken from his verbal thrashing.

"Right, but why collect skulls? Aren't they uh… well icky from being dead?"

"Icky?" Black-Briar recovers from her stupor and stares shocked at you. "Did you, a so-called representative of Hammerfell really just use the word icky? Of all the nerve-"

"Ms. Black-Briar. I think I prefer you silent."

Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

"Much better. Now, can we do business? Have you a skull of impressive value?"

"Uh… well no. Not anymore. Apparently, I did recently have sentient, perverted one but he recently disappeared."

"Apparently? Don't you know?"

"Uh, yeah sure. Absolutely. In any case, he got away. He uh… didn't like that I found his jokes subpar."

"A perverted, failed jokester." Lothar almost seems to sigh. "What a catch that would make. Ah well. We can't have it all, can we?"

"Right. We can't all have annoying talking skulls."

"That we cannot, I fear. Alas it appears I cannot get anything from this year's soiree. A shame. Now and then, someone will have something worth handing over. How fortunate for me to have all the time in the world."

"Uh… right." You wonder if he means that literally.

"I shall keep my eye out for you, Redguard. Might I at least have your name?"

"Adahn." It's literally the first thing that pops into your head and Bedai-Lihn knows it.

"Wait, that's not it. It was-"

"Well "Adahn." May we cross paths in the future. It's not often I say that but you look like a curious specimen. If you ever find that perverted skull or another equally interesting one, please bring it to me. I'm sure I can find a way to help you."

"And where would I find you exactly." You ask more out of a desire to avoid than confront.

"Oh, I don't know off the top of my head. Perhaps I'll flitter about in Skyrim for a time. War is brewing and that means more skulls for my masterpiece. Until then." He nods and begins moving away.

"Wait! Lord Lothar! I can make it up! I swear I-" Black-Briar stares after in dismay then turns to you with anger.

"You cost me quite the opportunity just now you freak. For that you'll pay. Just you wait."

You feel a smirk coming on as you watch her walk off in a huff. Your partner however is considerably less thrilled.

"You just made friends with Lothar master of bones, and enemies with Maven Black-Briar. Way to go hero!"

"Why thank you. That took effort on my part as you can tell. Wait, was that sarcasm?"

She rolls her eyes.

"Maven and Lothar. Great. Two more names to remember."

"And not ones you want to forget berk! So, I suggest you-"

"Updated my journal."

"Come again?"

"I updated my journal. I'll memorize them."

"By the lady, how did Delphine choose you? All right just keep to yourself in a corner. I'm going to look for some means of distraction. I'll let you know when I've thought of something. Try not to stand out please?" She looks at you again. "Ah, forget it."

So, you find yourself sitting in a chair by the door watching the snobbish guests fraternize. You'd really like a drink to help yourself better ignore the stares thrown your way. But no. The Dragonborn has to be sober. Figures you'd get the ability to blow people apart with your voice, but not the chance to get wasted.

"Does she really think nobody's going to notice me just because I'm sitting in a chair?"

"Indeed. A strange question. After all someone like you will stand out like a baatezu in the abyss fine sir."

You stare at what you believe might be the most beautiful woman you've ever seen. You wouldn't guess there was a single non-human bone in her exquisite form… If it weren't for her wings.

"You know you might say the same maam. Someone as outlandish… err stunning as yourself."

She smiles, though that smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Please, I've heard it all before. I am fully aware how much I stand out. I assure you however, there is much more to me than my loveliness."

"I know. I see your wings."

She frowns. "I was referring to my personality. But I suppose I learned what I needed to. You're a typical human man. Always using your eyes and nothing else."

"Huh. I'm pretty sure I've never been called typical before. I thought the whole requirement for this party was to be as abnormal as possible."

She raises her eyebrow at this.

"I mean, think for a second. What are the odds they picked someone like me out of trillions to attend this gathering? The odds are astronomical!"

"… I suppose there is some logic to your argument. So, you're someone of significance?"

"Adahn. Sent here to request further aid to the region of Hammerfell."

"Hammerfell. Never had much taste for that place. Not since that whole mess."

"Mess? Which mess do you refer to?"

"You know which surely, as a representative of the region? Some madman gets it into his head to play god, things go to Baator. Ring a bell?"

"I… of course! Of course! But enough about me! Who do you represent?"

"I represent myself you could say. Well all right. Not myself. I represent the great Lord Harkon. Not a name you're probably familiar with right now. But don't fret. In time. In time."

That name rings a case of Déjà vu. You've heard it before. But where?

"I do hope so," You lie. "I would indeed be curious to meet the master of a woman such as yourself."

She laughs. It's quite a lovely sound. For someone you're fairly certain is not so pure.

"If I had a copper for every time, I heard something like that. Not that I mind it thank you."

"I reckon you've earned it. I only wish I could get such praise myself. But as you said, most men use only their eyes. They can't see past my skin."

The woman licks her lips. She seems interested all of a sudden. You're not sure that's good for you.

"It seems we have the opposite problem then. I gather men to me like flies while you can't get them to approach at all." She leans in a little closer. "Perhaps I can give you something you're lacking."

You feel your hairs rise up on your back. From fear or excitement. Is there really a difference?

"I find I'm lacking a number of things."

"How about companionship?"

"Oh no. Don't even think about it little human. Don't want a succubus getting her hands on you."

You turn to the hideous winged creature before you. Unlike the so-called succubus, there's no denying this beast is a fiend.

"And you're so much better? Eh Tek'elach? You shouldn't trust him either Adahn. That might land you as a slave."

"It seems even at this pleasant gathering; old feuds can't be let go."  
Tek'elach snorts. "Old doesn't do it justice. There's no human word that describes the length of our oppression at their hands."

She stares back eyes wide. "I believe we've suffered even greater you slave drivers!"

Well, this might prove the distraction you need. You look Bedai-Lihn's way and she nods back at you. You slowly and sneakily make your way over to her making sure to avoid their gaze… only to run into another.

"Really. How many monsters are at this…"

Your tongue is caught in your throat at the sight of the beautiful creature before you. From his ivory skin, to his shining hair, the only discrepancy are his charred wings. But even if he looked like the baatezu next to you, you still wouldn't feel mortified. The goodness flows from him like Vivian's perfume. Only it's somehow even more intoxicating. His smile is just the icing on the cake.

"Lord Trias, I apologize. I was just-"

"Being yourself? I knew that when I hired you good sir. That being said, I would have thought centuries of you being… well you might have taught you self-restraint. After all, are you not obsessive over lawfulness and all that?"

Neither fiend looks happy. Particularly the succubus.

"What's a deva doing with a filthy baatezu? Why isn't he immediately tearing his head off? Unless… you haven't formed an alliance, have you? You aren't planning…"

"Oh no madam. Nothing like that. I have no intention of sullying my hands with your little bloodbath."

"Little?" Both fiends reply.

"I'm simply here to check up on the mortal realm where their own type of war is brewing. As a deva, it is critical to maintain a healthy balance between the planes. This debacle between the Thalmor and these Stormcloaks could upset that balance."

Tek'elach snorts. "War? They are children fighting over nothing. They don't know a damn thing about war."

"Yes, you've made that opinion clear before good sir. Whether or not you agree with it, it is my mission and I intend to uphold it. Which might be difficult to do whilst you uphold petty grudges."

"Petty? This is a creature of the abyss! Pure chaos! A monster in every sense of the word! This is the purity of the law!"

"Me? A monster? I uphold my passions! I don't let the law enslave me! Without chaos, what purpose is there for living? None!"

The whole room is now focused on the bickering beasts. Elenwen moves over next to the deva with displeasure written on her face.

"Lord Trias, with all due respect, you recall my initial concern with allowing a pair of fiends to this gathering."

"I had no control over the succubus. But yes, I do take responsibility for Tek'elach. I merely thought it important to remind this group of the creatures we share this world with."

"Need you? Need you remind us, my lord? We have problems enough as it is. Do we really need to be reminded of these problems?"

This looks like the distraction. You ease your way over as the deva himself struts over and gets in between the arguing fiends. You don't hear what he says due to your focus but somehow it seems to calm the beasts down. You and your partner make your way back over to Malborn at the bar.

"So uh, mission accomplished? You got your distraction. I guess."

"No thanks to you," your partner snarks.

"Shut it. Just get us out of here. I don't want that succubus hitting me up again."

"Huh. Thought you would have enjoyed the attention. Not often someone like you gets that kind of notice."

"OK, you two. Save it for the bedroom. Through here."

"Bedroom? You dare? I am an anarchist-"

"I agree with her elf. That was pretty low."

"Ok, sorry! Just get in here! Find the information you need and get out!"

He hushes you through the door just as the commotion ceases. You think you see the deva's eyes turn to you just as it shuts.

…

"I think I've got something! These records. Come quickly!"

You sigh. You've been sneaking throughout and searching the estate for the better part of an hour, but found nothing of real value. A few guards who you had to knock out, but otherwise nothing. It actually kind of bothers you. The silence. It's like your mind. Nothing since there is nothing you can remember.

"All right but given our luck so far, forgive me if I don't hold my breath."

"Sheesh. A real hero here. Just check it out, will you?"

You reluctantly obey and head over to read the journal.

"Recipes. Combine 20 deathbell with-"

"Not that bit! Lower down!"

You skim through the pages. You see a few words here and there that might interest you. There's mention of the incident at Helgen where you apparently almost lost your head. A page or two the deva you just crossed paths with.

"Interesting. That deva sounds like a bit of a black sheep. Says here he-"

"Later. Right now, we need to know about the dragons. Anything else can wait. Hold on. Esbern? I know that name! Stop right here!"

You hand her the book. Her eyes widen. A smile etches across her face.

"This is it. This is what we need. Come on. Let's get out of here. Come on hurry. We need to get this to Bytopia."

"Hey! Yeh ther! Mebbe give a hand ta good old Nodd?"

She jumps. You simply turn to the cage in the corner you never noticed. Inside lies a hooded, brown-robed man. He seems to be nodding as he stares out at you.

"Uh… hi?"

"Hey ta yeh kind sir! Name's Nodd." He nods as if to confirm how he got that name.

"Uh, hi… Nodd." You feel yourself nodding in response. Great, now you've got the tick too.

"Hi te yeh too. Say, feel lik givin' ol Nodd a hand outer here?"

"Yeah no. Sorry Dragonborn, but we haven't the time for this. By now, they've realized we're gone and will be on their way here."

"Ples berk. Show Nodd some compassion yeh? Mebbe Nodd can get yeh some help? Like ta way out?"

You look at your partner. She relents.

"Well I suppose that's a little different then. All right. Where are the keys?"

"One o' the gentlemen gurding Nodd had it. Mebbe take a look for ol Nodd?"

You did have to take out a few guards in the room so searching through them is a bit of a hassle. Eventually though, you do find it and insert it into the keyhole.

"Thank ye kindly berk! Nodd's a man o his word, he is. So, follow. Tis way!"

Weaving through another few rooms, you find a trapdoor. Part of you wonders why they would have something like that here. But no time to wonder about that. Time to go!

"Hold it spies! We have your man! Come out now or we gut the little bugger!"

"Yeah, perhaps a little help! Maybe? Please?"

"Malborn." Bedai-Lihn looks your way with concern.

"Tis sunds bad, yeh? Nodd be thinking we should be leaving? Yeh think?"

"Maybe we should. We can't risk losing either of us. Nor this information."

"So, this is how the anarchists treat their friends? Starting to wonder who the villain is here."

"Oh, don't give me that! We're trying to save the planes from these tyrants! Don't ever compare us!"

"Hey gents. Nodd be thinking tis getting a little rougher than he likes. Nodd will see you round."

"Hey wait! Why were they holding you? Wait!"

"Sorry, berk. Nodd need be gettin back ta Riften. Hell hole. But Nodd's home. Boss sez so. You come, Nodd help mebbe?"

"No wait! Shit! All right fine! Come on scarface. Let's follow!"

"I'm warning you! I'll gut him! Come out now!"

"Guys! Guys, come on! I did you a favor! Don't leave me hanging!"

"Last chance! Come out now!"

You look back at your partner. She seems pretty set. You can't say the same.

"Wait! Wait! I know who they are! I'll tell you everything!"

"Malborn, you traitor!"

"What do you expect? You think I'm gonna just let this go? Like I'm just gonna-"

Quicker than you can blink, she steps out into the hallway with her bow and arrow drawn. With lightining-quick fingers, she looses an arrow and it hits Malborn right in the neck.

You and the Thalmor just stare with eyes wide. Clearly taken by surprise. Until she grabs you and pulls you down into the trapdoor.

"After them! Now! Hurry!"

"And people call me the weirdo," you mutter.

"Oh, shut it. Party's over."

…

"That was not nice." Bedai-Lihn glares back at you as you run through the tunnels

"Yeah, and you know what? The planes aren't nice! Nothing about them is nice! That's why we do the work we do! Because you can't afford to be nice!"

"I realize that. Looking at myself, I'm fully aware. But that seemed less nice than normal. The guy took a huge risk for us. We could at least have made an attempt."

"And risked losing this crucial information? This is too important! He knew that going in! Sometimes… Sometimes…" She struggles to find the right words.

"What are you trying to say? Sometimes life sucks a big giant dick?"

"Yes! Exactly! Sometimes… Well not that crude. But life hands you bad choices sometimes. You make do with what you've got."

"Well at least you've convinced me I'm with the good guys."

"Don't get sarcastic. You've definitely done worse in your life. Anyway, we're almost out."

She's probably right, but still. Show a little remorse damn it!

Once outside, you follow her through the nearby forest out to the edge of the road.

You wonder where that Nodd guy went. He wasn't that far ahead. No time to think about it though.

"All right. We need to keep out of sight until we get back to the portal. Just take it steady. We'll make it fine."

"It is not my will that you leave."

Something flips in your head. That voice and manner of speech instantly ring a bell. You turn around.

An old elf stands in your way with a determined look and a shimmering sword. And behind him a battalion of Thalmor and the old general.

"No, that it is not! For once Dak'kon, your ridiculous speech patterns don't bother me one bit!"

"Ridiculous? There is nothing ridiculous in knowing-"

"Dak'kon, I'm in a good mood right now. Don't fuck it up."

The old elf seems like he wants to respond, but shuts his mouth and lets the general talk.

"I thought I saw your face from somewhere. If I'd had a better look, I would have thrown you in a cell on the spot! As I recall, you were with Ulfric Stormcloak. With your head on the block."

"I wondered why my neck hurts so much. I don't remember exactly what happened. But I know I'm no friend of Stormcloak. Hence, you have no reason to trouble yourselves with us."

Everyone looks at you unbelievably. Even your partner.

"No reason to trouble ourselves with you? Even after you broke in and stole from us? Some fine logic there corpse! By order of the Empire, you are under arrest! Come quietly or else…"

"Or else what? You'll have to lick the Thalmor's balls? At least Ulfric isn't someone's pet! You imperials are loyal lap dogs! Always spreading your cheeks! Waiting for them to insert their-"

"Enough! Shut your fucking mouth, you whore! Dak'kon, arrest them for charges of treason!"

The elf shows no emotion as he draws his sword and points it at you.

"Know that I have no desire to make an enemy of you. Your persistence to last this long suggests a character of great strength. Come peacefully and we can-"

"Enough talk! Just get them!"

You feel sweat on your forehead. This is a true warrior. You're not sure you can take him on. Even if you could, you couldn't take on all those soldiers. Your partner seems to have the same idea.

"Well Scarface, I'd like to say it was nice to know you. But honestly, you were kind of a letdown. Thanks for screwing us over."

"I'd say the feeling is mutual, but I never regarded you highly."

"Dovahkiin!"

"Oh god! Not another one!" The general looks up in fear at the black silhouette in the dark.

"Awesome! Thank you dragon!"

"Ironic. Thwarted twice by one of the old ones. And in the presence of the same man. Intriguing."

"Dak'kon shut it! Attack!"

You feel yourself moving in response to his order. Your partner grabs your wrist though.

"No time! Let's take advantage and get the hell out of here!"

She pulls you down the road, not bothering to hide anymore. But a wave of fire erupts in front of you, sealing you in.

"No escape this time, criminal! You're not going to leave us alone with another of these beasts! So, get over here and-"

"General, move!"

Dak'kon pushes the old man out of the way as a shout rips the very air about them. They and the soldiers nearby are flung into the trees which are themselves blown away.

"Damn! I can't believe our ancestors fought those!" Bedai-Lihn is stunned. But you've already seen them. At least you think. Maybe. The book says so.

The beast yells out his nonsensical gibberish. Something about the superior species and all that.

"Shit! No getting around that fire! Let's head back through the trees! No wait! Not that way either!"

"There is no retreat this time, Redguard." Dak'kon rises back to his feet. "Fight with us or perish. As a true child of Hammerfell would."

You sigh and release a blast of ice at the monster's wings. It only singes the edge, but it does make him or her you suppose lose their concentration and slam into the side of the hill.

"Not a graceful beast. I expected better of one of the ancient rulers of the world."

The beast appears to understand that and flings itself at the elf who manages to dodge effortlessly. As he moves, he plunges his magnificent blade into the creature's side, slicing through as the beast moves past.

"Wow. That guy is… Wow. Just wow."

You have to agree with her. You should probably be doing something. But hot damn! You can't tear your eyes away.

The monster lunges again. Fire emerging from his maw. Another failure. The elf moves with grace you wouldn't expect from his age. Every time the monster makes a move, he expertly dodges and weaves.

"Now that's a Thalmor! Kick his ass!"

"Go captain Dak'kon!"

"Make him your bitch!"

"Hey scar man." Your partner whispers in your ear. "I might be ok to fighting all these elves. But with someone like that on their side? We should be going. Hello? You listening?"

You hear the words. But you do not know them. You can't tear your attention away from this exemplary warrior. No matter how much you really need to move.

"Come on Dak'kon, finish him off! Quit playing!"

"I do not play general. I simply appear unable to finish the creature off."

The monster laughs and finally speaks in a tone you recognize.

"Of course, you cannot, fool! Only one mortal in all the planes may have that honor! And you are not he!"

"Let's get in there! Men, charge!"

"No! Stay back!" With that sudden distraction, the beast finally gets the elf and knocks him back against the rock.

"Go for the head! Now!" The other Thalmor fight bravely to their credit. But they don't have even close to the level of agility as that of their hero and the beast is easily able to catch up.

"Now as back then, mortals are clearly as frail as ever! Let me remind you of your place! Observe!" The monster turns its attention to Dak'kon who nurses an injured arm.

"All right, that's it. Really time to go now. Before that thing decides- Hey wait!"

Maybe it's the heat of the moment. Maybe it's your amnesia. Maybe you drank too much wine at the party. Whatever the reason, you rush forward and shove your sword right up the bastard's asshole.

The scream is satisfying. Less satisfying is the sudden movement as you hold on for dear life while the monster tries to remove his… itch.

"Damn! Right up his rectum! That's one crazy bastard!"

"He's a Redguard all right! That desert does something to their brains!"

You don't know if that's true. But the tail knocking you aside certainly does something to your brain as you hit the side of a tree. You rise to your feet as the monster turns to you.

"So, the great Dovahkiin finally decides to release his inner dragon? Far too late!" The monster lets out a shout that knocks you away.

Before he can attack again, Dak'kon takes advantage of the distraction and clips off one of the wings. The beast knocks him against a rocky wall and pins him to it squeezing and causing him to grunt in pain.

"Such resolve. You are strong for an old man. I would not bother acting so strong for your men though. It won't change anything." He then turns to you.

"Surrender Dovahkiin. Come with me to the transcendent one and I will spare this warrior's life. You would not want the blood of one so remarkable on your hands, would you?"

Before you can answer, a bolt of lightning comes down from the sky and nails the monster in the back. He rises up on his feet, shouting in pain. And in that moment without thinking, you aim for his head. The bastard never knew what hit him.

Ignoring the corpse, even as its soul seeps into you, you quickly place your hand on Dak'kon' s chest and cast the restoration spell with all your might. To your relief, you see the wound closing up. You fall back exhausted. You didn't realize you had that kind of power within you.

You get a look at Dak'kon. He stares at you with some hard to read expression of awe and sadness.

"My life is yours. Our paths become one." He says that and loses consciousness.

"You… You're the Dragonborn? That explains why that… that other one came… at Helgen. But then…"

You rise to your feet and remember the general and his army of Thalmor.

"Look… general is it? I'm not in the mood for more blood. So just let us go, mmk?"

"Let you go!? Not a chance! You steal from us for the traitor Ulfric Stormcloak and just happen to be the only being able to kill these bastards, and you think I'm just going to let that go!? Not a chance in Sithis!"

You sigh. "I'm not working for Stormcloak I told you. Please no more. Pretty please?"

His expression tells you that he is not interested in backing off. But before any of them can make a move forward… they fall asleep. Seriously.

"That's cutting it close a bit, wouldn't you say? I must say I was right about you. You are an interesting character."

The deva (Trias was it?) emerges from the trees with the same smile and loincloth around his waist.

"Seriously, man. Put on a shirt."

"No need to thank me for that lightning. As a member of the upper plane, it was my honor to aid such an important individual. Especially if it got me a chance to see… one of them."

He walks past you and lays his hand on the now dead dragon. He doesn't bother hiding his amazement.

"To think. That I would live to see this. I realize the threat we now face. But still. What a story I shall have to recall when I return home! Oh, I can't wait for father to see." His face takes on a savage grin that seems out of place.

"Listen berk." Bedai-Lihn steps forward. "We've got a lot to do and we need to get out of here. So why don't you tell us who you really are and whose bloody side you're on?"

"Who am I? Why m dear you already know that. I am Trias, a messenger from the upper planes sent to save mortals from themselves and the machinations of those infinitely their greater. As for whose side… I am on the side of justice. The question is whose side are you on?"

Before today, you might have been able to answer that. You stare at the unconscious Dak'kon. What did he mean by our paths?

"Perhaps we should discuss this somewhere more private? I presume you have somewhere in mind, anarchist?"

Bedai-Lihn stammers. "How…"

"A deva. As I said. Here to save mortals. Which means I must know all potential threats. Including extremists."

"Extremists!? Us!? You've got some nerve!"

"Can we bring him?"

"Huh?"

"This Thalmor with the sword? Can we bring him?"

She shakes her head. "Sure, not just one freak! Let's invite them all!"

You frown. "One freak? Who-"

"Look in a mirror berk."

…

"Remind me again how you thought it was a good idea to let this… Thalmor associate into our home? Deva or not?" Delphine has pretty much avoided eye contact with the deva the whole time and focused on you. Almost like she's afraid of him.

"Perhaps because without my aid, you would no longer have a dragonborn? And I am not merely a Thalmor associate. I simply want what is right for the planes. At the moment, that means the defeat of the dragons. Having spoken with the Thalmor, I do not believe they have the means to accomplish that. But you with an actual Dragonborn? I think you might have a chance."

"And what do you plan to do now that you know this? Conscript into your cult?"

"I run no such thing, miss Delphine. I just want you to know that my services are at your disposal. The aid of a deva is not something to be dismissed lightly."

"If you truly are on our side, what were you doing with that damn cornugon?" Bedai-Lihn has herself been rather defensive towards the newcomer. Even though she agreed to show him the Bytopian colony.

"I simply wanted that poor confused soul recognize the value in harmony. I feel I was getting through too. Until that succubus showed up."

You look at the ground embarrassed. You still remember her touching you. That was… well you'd be lying if you said unpleasant.

"Well we did find the diary. You looked it over?"

"I did. Esbern. To think he's still alive. And in Riften? Of all places."

"I know, right? Why would he go there? The city a ruin. Home only to collectors."

"Exactly why it's the perfect spot. No one would think to go."

"Riften." That name strikes you as familiar. "Didn't that guy we saved from the embassy come from there? Nodd was his name I recall."

"You recall? When do you ever recall anything?"

"I have my moments."

Bedai-Lihn shakes her head. "So, what's the plan? Go find that nodding fool (assuming he's even made it back to Riften) and ask him for help? I don't get it. Why would the Thalmor have any trouble searching that shithole?"

Trias smiles. "Someone obviously did not read the whole entry. The city of Riften is irrelevant. As you said, it is merely ruins. A graveyard of homes. The real prize lies under the streets. It is rumored to be a massive complex. Ruled by a man named Pharod."

Your brain lights up again. Great, another name you've heard before.

"Yes. Pharod. A master collector. He's turned the whole city into his fortress and hidden the entrance to the underground. The Thalmor have searched the upper streets but found no way underground."

"So, you think this Pharod guy's got Esbern or something? Why would he have any need of him?"

"And more importantly who's Esbern?"

Everyone turns to you.

"Yep. There it is. There's the amnesia I've been looking for. I told you, numbnuts! He's one of the greatest anarchists of any generation! Try to remember this shit!"

"I have to remember a lot of shit. Thank you very much."

"As much as I enjoy hearing this mortal banter, I believe we should discuss some more technical matters miss Delphine. If I am to be of service, I wish to know more about your investigation thus far."

"You want something from me? Then help me with something first. I want to find Esbern. Help me find him and we can talk. How's that sound angel?"

"Oh, I would be delighted. And as a gesture of good faith, I will share with you everything I know of the Thalmor's findings into you. Tempting?"

"Oh, now we're talking." She turns to you.

"Esbern will only trust a familiar face like myself. I'll head to Riften with our new… friend and get him back. What are your plans in the meantime?"

"How about some leisure?"

"Leisure? In a time of dragons and war?"

"Yes, leisure! I've been running my ass off nonstop. It would be good to have some time to myself. Thank you very much! In fact, … I don't know why. I'd like to go to Whiterun."

Delphine raises her eyebrows but shrugs.

"I suppose you could do with the chance to clear your head. Heavens knows what's in there. But I don't want you going alone. Bedai-Lihn?"

"Ugh. Must I? I've had enough time with him for one lifetime."

"It was one night! But fine. I guess I could take… someone else."

"Might I recommend the Thalmor warrior you brought? I believe he owes you a debt."

"Oh right. Another thing to discuss. Why in the hell did you bring a Thalmor soldier here? Why is he sleeping in one of our beds?"

"He saved my life. Without him, I never would have survived that dragon."

"Nor without my help. But true enough. You don't have a life debt form me anyway it sounds like."

"But trusting a Thalmor. That sounds like a recipe for disaster."

The deva continues smiling. "I think you'd be surprised what you gain by giving enemies chances. It is after all the sensate way to experience as much as possible yes?"

"None of us are sensates."

"No? Not even after that fun in the brothel?"

Delphine's eyes raise. "What brothel? What did I miss?"

You place your head in your hands. You wish you just forgot this day already.

 


	23. The Mortuary

“So… What’s on your mind?”

That’s honestly the best you can do right now. This is awkward enough as it is.

The Thalmor, Dak’kon, looks up from his tea. You genuinely can’t tell what he’s thinking. For all you know he’s thinking of ten different ways to gut you. And looking at that sword, you’ve no doubt he could.

“I am contemplating all you have told me. About our mission, and the dangers involved.”

“Really? And what’s your assessment?”

He pauses.

“Know that in knowing, one may gain strength. However, another may gain despair and grow weaker.”

“Uh… So, it might help or it might hurt?”

“In essence.”

“Well in any case, I’d still like to know your opinion. And if you’re really going to stick with me, you’d better get used to it because I’m constantly going to be asking you for reminders.”

He pursues his mouth then gives a small sigh.

“Our odds are not great. Our foes are many and powerful. And your unexplainable bouts of amnesia do not aid us.”

“Right, well when you put it like that…” You rub the back of your head somewhat embarrassed. “I can understand if you feel the urge to bow out.”

“Bow out? The meaning of that is not known to me.”

“It means you can leave anytime you want.”

“No. I cannot. You saved my life. That much I remember. Hence, I am bound to serve you until I am able to repay it.”

“And how exactly will you repay it?”

“When the time comes, I will let you know.”

“Ok, but until then you have to do anything I say without question? And you can’t just leave when the going gets too tough?”

“I am bound to you until the appropriate time… Regardless of my opinions.”

“And you really can’t just say you want out?”

He seems to grumble in acknowledgement.

“Well, as long as you’re stuck with me, what do you think our next move should be? Am I doing the right thing sticking with these anarchists?”

“Savages in my opinion. No respect for tradition or honor. But they appear to be the only force with sufficient resources that will aid us. So, for the moment, let us humor them. At least until we find a better companion.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t hold out hope for that. According to my journal, I don’t have the best of luck with partners. If we get anyone else, they’re probably going to get weirder not better.”

“Then we must make the most of what we have. We must perfect ourselves to meet the demands of the planes. And of your destiny.”

“Well, in that regard, you might be the perfect companion. You have something none of my other friends had. A sword.”

“I know you carry weapons of your own.”

“Yeah, but I’m no expert! How else do you reckon I got these scars? I mean I don’t know myself, but it can’t have been through skill.”

“And how would I train you with your memory problems? It appears you would simply forget the next day.”

“I think I can remember if I’ve done it. It looks like it mainly comes down to events that took place. But when I do something I’ve done before… I don’t know. It just seems to come naturally.”

He raises his eyebrows. “An unusual curse you bear. I have never seen it’s like before.”

“Not one I’d wish on another. Well, maybe that Stormcloak guy. He sounds like a dick.”

He actually smiles at that. Not something you think he does often.

“So, you wish to know the ways of war? In that case let us begin-”

“Hey, hey! Aren’t you the Dragonborn?”

“Uh… maybe?”

“You are, aren’t you? You probably don’t remember me. But I remember you! You helped save our asses from that dragon that attacked the watchtower? Remember? Right after that, the greybeards summoned you! Don’t you remember?”

You turn to Dak’kon. He observes the confusion in your eyes with noticeable surprise.

“You did not lie. Such an act is not something you would easily forget.”

“Seriously, you forgot?” The soldier turns to the bartender. “I think this man needs another shot or two. Why don’t you put it on my tab? I’d say he’s earned it!”

“With all due respect, the “master” and I wish to keep to ourselves.” He says master with much disdain.

“Oh, I don’t think a drink or two could harm us much Dak’kon. I can’t recall the last time I actually had a sip, come to think of it!”

“Most likely the party where you stole Thalmor secrets.”

“Whazzat? Something about the Thalmor?”

“Nothing,” you quickly intervene. “Just a round or two of something light I suppose.”

“Something light? The hell with that!  We’re getting you the strongest we can get! Only the best for the hero of Winterhold!”

“Whiterun.”

“Whattevs! Whitehold? Winterrun? All the same to me! Hear hear!”

You ignore Dak’kon’s disapproving glance. You probably should take his advice to heart. But what the hell? One drink can’t hurt right?

As usual, you’re dead fucking wrong.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“Hey, chief. You ok? You playing corpse or you putting the blinds on the dusties? Heh, I thought you were a deader for sure.”

“Wha… Morte? The hell?”

The skull grins. “So, you remember me! That’s a nice change I’ll say! Usually I have to sit you down and spend half an hour reminding you who you are, and not to break my skull. Get it? Skull? Because It’s all I have?”

He grins at you, waiting for you to laugh. You don’t.

“Still don’t appreciate good humor, I see! Humph! Guess you can’t teach an old dog new tricks!”

“Morte, what’s going on? Aren’t you like a prisoner or something?”

“Or something? Another thing that hasn’t changed. Your colorful vocabulary! Honestly, can’t you come up with something a little classier?”

“Seriously, what the hell is going on? Where are we?”

“Oh this?” He looks about the white void. “Well, I guess you could say this is hell.”

“This? This is hell? Expected it to be a little hotter.”

“Yeah, good point. Of course, pain probably doesn’t mean much to someone drowning in scars. For someone like you, this is probably a more appropriate punishment.”

“How so? How does something like this count as punishment?”

“How would it not? Look around. No one else here. No one to talk to. To keep you company. Just you alone, forgotten.”

“Forgotten?”

“Yep. Forgotten. Just like you forget. Forget everyone you’ve hurt. Everyone you’ve murdered.”

“Stop. Just stop, please.”

“Sorry chief. Can’t stop. That’s the point of hell. You can’t get what you want.”

“Morte, come on. Get real. This isn’t real. It can’t be. I don’t believe it.”

“Ah, belief. That’s the great molder of the planes, chief. Belief. If you believe in it strong enough, isn’t that the same as it being true?”

“No, I don’t think so. This… I don’t believe it. I don’t!”

“Well, fine then. If you don’t want to believe that, then how about you just believe that this is some kind of hangover? Does that sound better?”

“Wait, what? Make sense damn it!”

“Nah, I stopped trying to make sense long ago. This is so much more fun. Trust me. Making sense of shit will just hurt your little brain. Better to just go with the flow. Let things play out their own way.”

“God damn it. I don’t have time for this.”

The skull snickers.

“Funny you know. Time is the only thing you’ve ever had. Now you’re racing against the clock like the rest of us. Welcome to being mortal chief.”

“I said, shut up!”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

You guess he heard you because you wake up in another room. You don’t know if you’re out of hell though.

“Damn. Where am I? What the hell?”

You’re lying on a stone slab in a dreary room with the thick stench of corpses clogging your senses. You look about at multiple shuffling corpses tending to different parts of the room. They don’t appear to notice you. Or merely don’t care.

“That’s the last time I hit the skooma. Wait. What’s skooma? When did I take it? What the fuck’s going on!?”

The corpses don’t seem to notice you even as you shake the entrance door. Locked. Just your luck. Locked in a room with zombies and no memory!

“Ok, ok. Calm down. There’s got to be a way out. Or something.”

You search the room for a time. You can’t seem to find the key. Damn it all to hell!

“You’d think someone had it out for me. Wait, what?”

The door opens, and a strange woman with razor-sharp talon-like fingers enters. She struts right past you like you’re not there and walks towards one of the corpses on the table.

You watch with confoundment as she plucks through the flesh of the corpses whilst paying you no mind at all. It makes no sense how she can be so into it and pay you no heed.

Actually, judging from your arms, you probably look a bit like a corpse yourself. So maybe she just mistook you for the staff. The perfect excuse to sneak out. Too bad, you can’t walk like a corpse, because she immediately turns your way.

“Oh, uh. Hi. Look no offense or anything-”

She just beckons you over without the slightest sign of apprehension. Fairly certain you’re still under the influence of whatever substance gave you your amnesia, you walk over.

“So, uh… Hi. No perhaps that’s the wrong word. Oi? No, too informal. Excuse me? What are you doing?”

She’s running her fingers over your flesh. Examining the strange canvas of your wounds. To most it would probably cause retching. But to someone who examines the dead for a living, it’s probably nothing new.

“Look, not that I’m not flattered but…”

She reaches in her pockets and pulls out some strange kind of fluid and some needle and thread. You take an instinctive step back.

“Woah. Whatcha doing there, lady?”

She doesn’t respond, but rather rubs the liquid over your body. You’re surprised by its pleasant smell. But even more surprised by her next action. She literally begins running the needle through your flesh. You wince from the sudden pain, but for whatever reason don’t reject. You might be going insane.

“There. Better. Proper. Go now. Shoo. Shoo.”

“Huh? Oh, right! I mean yes maam!”

She glares at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Speak funny. Strange in head, no?”

You grin embarrassed. “Gotta wonder myself.”

At least you’re out of the room. You guess all you have to do is act like another friendly neighborhood zombie and you should get out of here just fine.

Or not. You encounter a massive book. The pages have to be over 10 meters high! A lone old man with a long beard sits in front of the massive work. You can’t tell what he’s writing but you don’t want to attract his attention.

Easy. Just slowly walk away. Just another corpse. Just play the corpse.

The man coughs and looks your way seemingly annoyed.

Crap! Caught!

“The weight of many years hangs upon me Restless one… But I do not yet count deafness among my ailments.”

“Restless one? Is that my name?” You scrunch your face up in annoyance. “No wonder I choose to forget. That’s a terrible name!”

“No, that is not your true name. It is simply a title this mortuary has chosen to give you after all your many voyages through our doors. And I do not believe you chose to forget. It is simply your nature.”

“Wait. What? None of what you said makes any sense!”

He snickers at that. “Welcome to the planes.” His expression is interrupted by a loud coughing fit.

“You uh… You ok?”

“Ok? I suppose some would say no. I am not ok. But for me and my brothers the dustmen, I suppose yes. I would say I am ok. The plague has taken hold and soon my time on this plane will end.”

“And by that you mean?”

He sighs. “All these centuries and yet you still remain blind. I do not envy you. I mean I will die Restless one. My life will end and I will enter the True Death. A place of no emotion. No feeling. No awareness.”

“That… Sounds like oblivion. Why would anyone want that?”

“Why not? Is it worse than this reality we live in? This horrid wretched existence? Look around you. Is nothingness truly a worse fate than this?”

“…Really don’t know how to respond to that. You know I’m sure you could see a medic or healer.”

“I care not for such things. I have done my time. Seen what I care to. The planes hold no more wonders for one such as I.”

“Well maybe not for you, but I’m still curious. For instance, what did you mean about my many voyages? And what was that about the centuries?”

“I mean you have come here several times throughout the years. That is why we call you restless one. No matter how long you live, time does not seem to touch you.”

“So, you mean what? Immortal?”

He coughs again.

“That word is the enemy of my kind. The idea of eternal life is a curse I would only wish on my worst enemy. And even he is now long dead.”

“How is that a curse, honestly? Seems like a pretty good deal to me.”

“Observe your flesh. Do you think one touched by time could bear such horrendous injuries? They are no doubt a cumulation of your many centuries of torment.”

“Centuries? Seriously? How would you possibly know that? Are you immortal too?”

“No. Thankfully not. I am mercifully gifted with the mortal time of Githzerai. Many have held my position. Many have written in these pages the names of the dead who come here. And many have mistaken you for a corpse in the past because of your… Visage.”

“Which in your mind is a blessing right?” He ignores your haughtiness.

“My predecessors in time came to know you. For one reason or another, you passed out from alcohol or perhaps battle. And hence, we have come to recognize you all too well by your unique appearance.”

“Oh really? So, this whole mortuary is aware of this? And they haven’t made it public?”

“They are not aware restless one. Those in my position have kept your status hidden. Prevented your cremation. Let you remain a secret. Your immortality a secret.”

You shake your head. Are you still dreaming?

“So, do you know what I’m doing here this time? Why I woke up surrounded by zombies with no memory?”

“I cannot say why you ever come here. Though I do not believe it is by choice. Given your newly earned reputation here in Whiterun, I am frankly surprised it took you so long to find your way back here this time.”

“My reputation? What am I known as? The town drunk?”

“That would make more sense than the truth. Actually, you are apparently the Dragonborn. The mortal with the soul of a dragon. Something I find hard to believe considering whatever your affliction, it is not mortality.”

“Yeah, it really doesn’t. If I’m mortal, how can I have been coming here as long as you claim?”

“A question for which I have no answer, I fear. Nor can I explain the source of your curse. Only that in the more recent centuries you appear to have gained some serious sense of amnesia. I cannot say I understand the logic of that.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get that.” You jump up in surprise when you hear movement. Turning around, you see the woman with razor-sharp fingers walking by. She stares at the two of you with annoyance.

“Talking to corpses. Crazy old man.”

“Thank you Ei-Vene.” The man nods in her direction then turns back to you.

“I will say to you what my predecessors have said Restless One. You had best leave. One of eternal life is not welcome in these halls, and my brothers out of sympathy may wish to relieve you of your burden.”

“Oh yippee. What a day this is turning out to be.” You turn to move but hesitate. “You sure you don’t want help? We could probably get someone to look-”

“No. I have made my peace. I have seen enough of the planes, and I am tired. I do not want to delay the inevitable anymore. Why fight what you cannot change?”

“Well I’m going to keep trying regardless. Thank you err-”

“Dhall.”

“Ok, Dhall. Thank you. You’ve given me some things to think about. I hope your… True death is better than this life.”

“Know that I do not envy you Restless One. I truly mean that. I regret your plight and hope you find someone in the planes more capable than I to end your misery and grant you the peace of Oblivion.”

You rub your head from the sudden headache brought on by this flood of information. Information you are apparently destined to forget in just under twenty-four hours.

“I should have stayed with the corpses.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

You duck behind a pillar. Another dustman. You could try to ask them the way out you suppose but Dhall’s warning says no big time. As bad a shape as you’re in, you’re not ready to pass into the true death or whatever magical fantasy land these guys worship.

“Shit! Skeletons? What the hell is with these maniacs? For all I know, they’re sex slaves!”

No time to think about that. You need to move. Looks like the coast is clear. Hustle!

“Hey you! What do you think you’re doing here?”

Shit! You’ve been spotted. How to respond.

“Oh uh. I don’t think I’m supposed to be here.”

The man smiles warmly. His eyes do not match his expression…

“We have a solution for that.” He reaches into his coat and pulls out a mother fucking knife!

Without thinking, you sock him in the jaw and send him flying against the back wall.

“Holy shit! I’ve got some muscles! Guess there’s some good to this hideous body!”

“What was that noise? Remember brothers! Silence is the music of life!”

Shit. More crazies. You hurry down a dark corridor. You genuinely have no idea where you’re going and run right into a towering skeleton with a sword almost as long as your body.

“Oh uh, hi. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

“No need.” The skeleton raises his sword, forcing you to run in another direction.

“What is this commotion?”

“One of the living!”

“Set him free!”

Geez. You figured they might have issues with your trespassing, but to think they’d immediately try to finish you off!

“You can keep your true death, you crazy bastards!”

“Did you hear that? It came from this way!”

Shit. Maybe you should have kept your fat mouth shut. Also, maybe you should have watched where you’re going or you might not have run into that zombie.

“Augh!” You fall over each other through a door into another room. You quickly rise back to your feet and lock it shut, hoping these dead worshippers are as dumb as they are crazy.

“Watch where you’re going berk!”

You turn in surprise to the corpse who in turn seems to recognize its (no wait her) mistake with widened eyes.

“Err… Wwwwwwwwhhhhhhhuuuuuuuttttt dddddddddduuuuunnnnggggg?”

“You can talk? Holy shit! How do I get out of here? Tell me!”

“Nnnnnnnnnnnuuuuuuuuuuu sssssssssssppppppppppkkkkkkkkk eeeeeennnnnngggggggllllluuuuuussssssshhhhhh.”

“Cut the crap! Tell me, or I’ll blow your cover!”

She looks at you with fear evident. But that concern quickly evaporates and is replaced with wonder. She blinks a few times as is she’s trying to make sure she’s not dreaming.

“You… You look familiar.”

“Yeah I’ll bet! I’ve been in here a few times apparently. So maybe help an old friend out, ok?”

She stares at you for a time. She keeps blinking like she’s trying to convince herself you’re not real.

“Look, I know I’m cute or whatever. But can you help me out? Or we’re both dead!”

She keeps staring at you for some time. But upon hearing the sounds of running feet, she moves you underneath a table tucked securely in the corner. And just in time to as the door swings open and the dustman you pushed before comes in.

“Scarred man? Where is he?”

The woman back to playing the corpse stares blankly ahead. “Sssssscccccccaaaaaaarrrrrrreeeeeeeeddddd? Wwwwwwwhhhhhhhiiiiiirrrrrrrllllll?”

“Ah, useless corpses. Why do we keep you around?” The man simply shrugged and ran out.

“Yes, why do they keep you around, I wonder? What good are you?”

She stares back at you after closing the door.

“They make cheap labor. And if you’re dumb enough to trade your body to these wackos after your death, I say it’s well deserved.”

“So why are you hiding as one?”

She smiles. Not a creepy smile like that dusty. But a genuine smile. Somehow that makes you more nervous.

“I think… I was waiting for you.”

“Pardon? For me? You sure you aren’t mistaking me for the hired help around here?”

She nods profusely. “No, no, no. For you. Yes, for you. Our scarred lord. House Suda has never forgotten our pledge.”

“Our scarred lord? Sounds like something a drunk would come up with.”

“That is not your official title for sure. But it is the title we have come to know you by. You never revealed your true name to us. But we recognized your face. We recognized your scars. Born from the centuries of torment you have suffered!”

“I’ll bet. I think I’m understanding that right now.” You place your head in your hands. What a day!

“And you recognized our suffering at the hands of the Aldmeri Dominion! You sought to save us from our tormenters! Until they brought you to their own twisted sense of justice! They took you from us and we have suffered ever since!”

“Yeah, look apparently I’m going to forget all this in twenty-four hours, so I don’t really see the point in discussing this further.”

“What?” With concern, she places her hand on your cheek. She looks you up and down. “What madness is this?”

“I… I genuinely don’t know. I don’t know why I’m here. Apparently, I’m something called the Dragonborn. I just… I don’t know… I need to get out of here. I need somewhere to clear my head.”

She stares at you. You don’t think she believes you. After all, you wouldn’t. But she seems to nod in agreement. You can’t imagine why.

“I can’t say I fully understand. But you led us proper and true in the past. I will have to trust your wisdom now.” She pauses. “I think I know a way out to the city. If you trust me. I will lead you. But first, you must make a promise to us.”

“Yeah sure. What’s that? Remember, I’m apparently going to forget in less than a day.”

“Well, remember this. I will lead you if when the time comes, you lead us.”

You stare. You feel for some reason that you ought not to say yes to that. But the sound of more footsteps limits your options. You shake her hand as she smiles.

Why can’t anyone make any damn sense?

_“Making sense of shit will just hurt your little brain. Better to just go with the flow. Let things play out their own way.”_

“Damn skull.”

She looks around confused. “What skull?”

“Tha- Actually, good point. I don’t know what skull.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

“I say it’s incredible! Incredible! Here I am hiding from our enemies in this ramshackle town, out of hope with no friends! And here you come to save me form my predicament! To give me purpose again! Oh, how the lady must smile on me this day1”

As hard as it is with everything else you’ve just had to swallow, you try to keep an ear on the fake zombie’s ramblings. It might come in handy for some reason. Though you can’t say why you think so.

“No need to fear for my safety my lord. I will make my own way out of this city and let our brothers and sisters know of your return. I must admit I am somewhat confused about your amnesia. But I am not surprised to find out you are the legendary Dragonborn. You are quite up for the honor, I must say!”

Ok, you’re getting a headache. You’re wishing you had some of whatever knocked you out in the first place.

“You’ll have to hold out on your own for some time. Not a challenge for someone of your caliber. When I can, I will come back for you. You shall have assistance worthy of the task ahead of you. Both the Thalmor and the dragons! Such a destiny! How I envy you!”

Please, please, please. Zombie lady go away. Don’t come back another day.

“All right, I believe we’re here. Bask in the sun once more!”

You cover your eyes. You resist the urge to get a drink, since that’s most likely what got you in the mortuary to begin with.

“I must inform our aid about this miraculous moment my lord. But I am a little concerned about dragging you along with amnesiac restrictions. Is there anywhere I might leave you where you would feel safe? Perhaps we should check with the companions? I believe they would be the ideal hiding spot for a warrior of your caliber.”

“Ok, ok! Whatever! Let’s just go! I’m getting a headache from all this!”

She looks your way concerned.

“Apologies my lord. I did not mean offense. Do you need a moment? We can sit down…”

“No, let’s just get off the streets. I don’t want those damn death worshippers to recognize me. And from hearing you, you don’t want to be recognized either.”

She nods in understanding and pulls you along. Trying to stay to the shadows as much as possible.

“I can’t tell you what a nightmare it’s been. Stuck in a strange place, not knowing who to trust…”

“Oh really? Actually, I think I can totally know what that’s like.”  
“Sorry, my lord. What was that?”

You shake your head. “Never mind. Carry on. Is that their place up ahead?”

“Yes. Yes, I believe it is. Come my lord. We are almost there.”

You somehow find yourself standing in front of the large building’s doors with your rather odd companion hiding in the nearby shrubs.

“Any particular reason I’m standing out here by myself?”

“I fear to show myself in there my lord. The Redguards have doubtless asked for my name to these otherwise fine people. I am sure they will welcome someone like you gladly, but they might be tempted to pass me off for the substantial reward promised. I can’t show my face in there for the time being.”

“So, you’re just gonna ditch me? With amnesia and no idea where or who I am? And you call me your lord!”

“Fear not my lord. When the time is right, I will find you again. Until then you must stay safe. Hold out hope as we have held out hope in you and I will find you again.”

“With amnesia!? You’re going to leave me alone with that? Are you joking?”

“I must go my lord. Our enemies have many spies. When you need us, we will be there. Just remember the name Iman.”

“I can’t remember anything! Aren’t you listening? Hello? Hello? Where’d she fucking go?”

“What’s this commotion? Who are you to shout such profanities-”

The loosely dressed woman before you stops mid-sentence to just stare at you. She looks like she’s seen a ghost. You reckon you’re one step away from it.

“Greetings. I know I look a bit out of shape. But I can explain-”

It’s she who probably has to explain though as she suddenly socks you in the face before pulling you into an enormous hug.

“You bastard! You stupid bastard! I never thought I’d see you again!”

Damn it! Can anyone in this stupid city act normal?

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

You spend the next minute get jostled around the room. Simultaneously hugged and punched by each strangely dressed individual. You feel your heart pounding from panic. First the bearded scribe, then the fake zombie, now all these crazy warriors? Does everyone somehow know you?

“You left us hanging berk! For months now! All you had to do was talk to those old geezers on a mountain! Where the hell have you been?”

You slowly pull yourself out of the dark elf’s crushing hug. “Look I’m sure you’re a nice guy, but… Wait, what’s that about geezers on a mountain?”

“Ah hell! Don’t play dumb with me berk! Just because we’re warriors don’t make us stupid! Come on now!”

“Back off Athis. We had this talk before, remember? He can’t recall anything without his trusty journal. Now why don’t you just pull that out friend, and we can get back to proper greetings?”

“Journal? What journal? Where would I keep a journal? Have you seen this outfit I’m wearing?”

“Well, that ain’t good.” The bearded man looks you up and down. “I don’t suppose you can recall what brought you back to this shitty city?”

“All I know is I woke up in a mortuary and got chased by some crazies in robes trying to “save” me.”

“Damn dusties. Why we let them live here, I have no idea. I suppose you want some explanation about how we know you.”

“That would be a nice change! Clear answers!”

“Well I can’t say where you’ve been for the last few months, but I can tell you what you were meant to be doing. Need some ale? Actually, probably not the best thing to have right now.”

“I do not know what brought you to this place. But I will know now if you do not mind.”

You all turn to an old man seemingly of the same species as that Dhall guy. Only a much less impressive beard, but a much more impressive sword.

“Hey who let you in here berk? This is for members of the companions only! Not crazy old men!”

“Especially not Thalmor.” The woman who calls herself Aela steps forward and glares at the man. “The empire may tolerate your prejudice on our soil. But true nords do not!”

“Know that I no longer obey the will of the Thalmor or the empire. I obey the will of the man who calls himself Dragonborn. Judging by his confused stare, I presume he does not know himself anymore. The curse he spoke of.”

The man named Farkas (or was it fuckass?) places a hand on Aela’s shoulder and turns to you. “I don’t suppose you can remember if this berk is telling the truth?”

“For the lady’s sake! I told you, I can’t remember shit!”

“Then there’s only one way to confirm.” Another man who looks exactly like Farkas steps forward and draws his big frigging sword.

“Only true warriors may stand in this hall. And in the presence of the Dragonborn no less! If you wish to talk as equals, you must earn you-”

He can’t finish as the sword is struck out of his hand. The elf’s sword swung so fast, no one had time to process it.

All of you turn in shock to the stoic swordsman. His expression wouldn’t suggest anything strange had happened just now. He might as well have been standing in the breeze.

“Know that I cannot be bested by the likes of you. Not as thee wielder of this blade.”

“Ha! Giving up like a chump! Thought better of you Vilkas!” A goat lady strides forward cracking her knuckles. “Why don’t you try me buddy? See what you’ve got in those old bones of yours!”

Before she can react, he flings her over his shoulder and has his sword at her throat. She can’t believe her eyes.

“I know your type very well. I know you because you do not know yourself. If you did, you would not feel the need to prove yourself with such absurd boasts.”

“How dare he? Come on Farkas, let’s show this invader how a true companion fights!”

“Come on Aela, I think he’s proven himself pretty well.”

“I will not be bested by elf swine! Never!”

“Uh, hello? Elf here!”

“Sorry Athis. I mean Thalmor swine. Come on, let’s show him!”

Whatever she wants to show him, you don’t think it’s what you see. She and Farkas get absolutely wrecked. They have some impressive moves for sure. But it can’t even compare with this guy’s moves. You say at most they have two minutes before they’re lying on the ground on their backs panting.

“That… all you got… Old fart…”

“Master. I believe you forgot this during your… excursion. You disappeared in the chaos you stirred up in the bar. I believe a pour over this will ease your mind.”

“Yes, speaking of easing minds, I think Kodlak would like to see you sooner rather than later.” Vilkas stares at his comrades in their humiliation then at the Thalmor. “If you have issue with that…”

“It is not my will that the Dragonborn be stopped. If it is his will to see your master, know that I will follow.”

“Fucking… asshole.” Aela continues panting and failing to lift herself off the floor.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The old man you now remember as Kodlak stares at you and your partner you now remember as Dak’kon with an expression you can’t quite make out. Seriously, what is he thinking? Come to think of it, what is Dak’kon thinking? They both remain completely stoic under these very strange circumstances. You kind of have to admire them in some odd way. You can’t keep your confusion off your own face!

“You’ve had quite the adventure Dragonborn. I honestly expected you to be back a lot sooner. I figured you would simply meet with the Greybeards, and make your way back. Instead from what I hear, you became embroiled with the College of Winterhold and Ulfric Stormcloak himself! And now this Thalmor.” He stares at Dak’kon with raised eyebrows. “Such tales you have to tell, I’m sure.”

“If I could remember most. Since I’m I apparently going to forget this all, I have to limit myself to essential knowledge.”

“And trust your companions to remember the rest? Such a strange burden you have to bear.”

“Didn’t I cover this with you before? Surely my friend at the time (Morte was it?) explained what I had to deal with?”

“Yes, he did. And I’m sorry that some in our circle sought to take advantage of that. Aela for instance.”

“Um, yeah. I’m still a little fuzzy on that.”

“She gifted you (or should I say cursed) with the blood of the rat. Then she used you to launch an attack on our rivals the Mercykillers, aka the Silver hand. Our brother Skjor paid with his life, and since then, they have stepped up their attacks against us.” He smiles at you sadly.

“I do not blame you for this of course. Aela clearly took advantage of you for her own ends. She has held onto the old ways too strongly. The ways of Vhailor. And in so doing, she gave you a terrible burden.”

“This blood of the rat? I’ve looked through a lot of the journal, and I don’t see that being too much of a problem. Apparently, I haven’t really used it all that much.”

“For which I am grateful. You have not succumbed to the temptation like others. But there are other more subtle prices to pay for it. Perhaps you have noticed the sleeplessness?”

You frown. “I don’t really remember sleeping much. But then again, I don’t remember much of anything.”

“That is a problem with the blood of the rat. It is a serious boost in strength and power. But it reaches into the soul. It even determines your role in the afterlife. In our case, it bars us passage from Sovngarde, the home of my ancestors.”

“Sovngarde,” Dak’kon replies back stoically. “The home of Nord warriors who die in battle. I do not understand. If you die in battle, would you not still join the great feasting?”

“Not with this curse upon me. Hence, I have spent my twilight years seeking a cure. I believe I might have found a way to break it. I actually planned to discuss this with you before Aela made her move.”

“Know that the dragonborn has many pressing matters to deal with.”

“Of course! Of course! But you are technically a companion yourself and this curse affects you too.”

You grimace. “I suppose I could hear you out. What is it you need from me?”

“The curse was placed upon our ancestors by the Glenmoril witches. A covenant of Night hags from the Grey Wastes. I need someone to retrieve the head of at least one of them and bring it back.”

“Know that this is an exceedingly dangerous task you thrust upon us. You would send us into one of the vilest planes in the multiverse? One that birthed Puzzlewell herself?”

“I only ask a favor. I only ask for freedom from this torment.”

Dak’kon’s expression changes immediately upon hearing the word freedom. He turns to you.

“Know that it is your will I follow. But if there is a chance to offer another freedom from enslavement, I would be most honored to aid.”

You bite your lip. Some day! Starting in a mortuary and ending up curing a warrior of rat disease!

“I… guess? I mean… maybe?”

“Thank you, brother. Your courage shall not be forgotten.”

“Wait! I didn’t exactly say yes! And why me? You could send anyone here!”

“I do not know why. Somehow, I do not get the same trust from them that I do from you. Perhaps it is illogical, but it is there. I am not saying you have to go alone of course. I am too old to make the trip myself, but I am sure some other companions would wish to follow you.”

“Well, I would say I’d like to sleep on it, but I’d just forget. Can I take a moment to think it over?”

“Of course. Anything for the Dragonborn.”

“I need a drink.”

“Know that is most unwise master. Considering that is what landed you in the mortuary.”

“Yeah, yeah. Well can I get some food anyway? I know I haven’t eaten shit in hours.”

“Know you can be an effective leader without vulgarity.”

“Oh please!”

“A moment please,” Kodlak looks your partner’s way. “If I’m not mistaken, you are Dak’kon are you not?”

Your partner looks his way with confusion. “I am known to you?”

“I take note of all great warriors. Especially pariahs. Talos guide you friend.”

Dak’kon’s eyes widen in shock. “You may know of me. But you do not know me.”

“I know many things friend. I know there is no shame in belief.”

“Know that I am still a warrior of the Thalmor. My duty trumps my belief.”

“I don’t think you really believe that.”

“Enough. It is not my will to discuss this anymore. I will gladly free you of your curse, but do not question my commitment.”

“I do not question your commitment. I already know you are not truly committed to those elves. It is not their teachings which inspire you.”

Dak’kon doesn’t respond. Doesn’t seem to know what to say.

“All I’m saying is this. You don’t have to be a nord to be a son of Talos.”

Dak’kon really does walk away this time. You look back and forth, trying to figure out what the hell you just witnessed.

“Am I missing something? What the hell was that about?”

Kodlak smiles at you sadly.

“He has the same problem as you my friend. He does not know himself. Or won’t admit it.”

 

  


 

 

 


End file.
